


Between

by Druid_Moon



Category: Neverwinter Nights
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-08-26
Updated: 2012-08-26
Packaged: 2017-11-12 23:04:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 39,838
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/496642
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Druid_Moon/pseuds/Druid_Moon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>HotU. Ever wondered what happened in between those conversations in the Underdark? The story of a romance between a surly tiefling and temperamental druid, with a mischievous assassin and dedicated bard along for the ride.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here begins the rewrite of Between. One of my biggest flaws, I'm ashamed to say, is that I tend to half-ass most of my fanfiction. Between is a story I really wanted to be proud of, so until I can get back into Elowayen's head (and I'm almost there again, I promise), I decided to go back and fix the errors and polish up what I already have.

_Moonlight illuminated the entire forest, casting an eerie glow on the path. Her skin was prickling; a sense of foreboding and dread had been following her since her arrival only a few days before. One more night in the forest, she had promised herself, before entering the city and finding the cause to its troubles- and perhaps, the cure as well._

_A whisper of fear from deep within her soul began to stir, her body reacting to the unknown threat. Her senses were telling her to run, run as far away as she could._

_A crash behind her, and she knew then that she had to move, to_ run-

_To escape._

_She exploded from her hiding place in a flurry of moon-stained green and browns. Her booted feet raced down the path, and behind her she heard the near-silent steps of a predator._

_With a leap, she cleared a fallen tree and landed hard, pushing off from the ground and disturbing the undergrowth. At her hip rested her sword, and on her back her bow- yet something told her not to draw, but to run._

_She continued to run. She ran until the sky was tinged pink and gold, until the moon was a pale shadow and fires licked at the horizon. Waterdeep stood before her, bathed in red and gold from the sun's light. She didn't stop until she reached the shadow of its walls, only then stopping to turn-_

_And saw a man in black. He stood at the edge of the woods, his eyes burning into her even from such a great distance. She saw the assassin morph into someone else, someone different and dear and painful to see-_

_And behind her, a cry of battle and the clash of weapons. She felt the heat of a battle, felt the blood splatter as she turned her back on the past, turning to her future with her sword sliding free-_

She shot upright, eyes wide and panicked as she fought the last vestiges of reverie. At her feet, her companion rested, a mound of smooth fur and sleek muscles. Her fire had died to embers, and her pack rested nearby. Her weapons lay nearby, waiting and ready for her to once again pick them up and wield them in battle.

Shuddering, she turned her gaze forward, to the walls of Waterdeep itself. They stood, covered in shadows and moonlight, as she studied the path before her. If she listened closely, she could hear the cries and screams of the citizens inside, and the shouts of the city guards.

After the last time she got involved in a town's troubles, she had assumed that it was over and done. That her adventuring life was over- until she received word through one of her allies-turned-friends that something wrong, something unnatural, was brewing in the City of Splendors. Ayala knew that she could not resist such a crisis, and so she found herself on the road once more, exacting promises from her “neighbors” to keep her home safe.

Befriending dryads was one of the best things she could have done, honestly.

Standing, she nudged her companion with her foot until the animal woke- and yawned, showing a large pink mouth with several large teeth.

“It's time, _voronwer_ . We go on.”

The animal immediately got to its feet, rubbing against her legs in an attempt to soothe the anxiety it felt reverberating through the bond it had with its friend.

“I'm fine, _voronwer_. Just... ready for this to be over.” she sighed, twisting as she began her morning stretches. “I dreamed of _him_ last night-”

The animal growled.

“And I understand it better now, the dream,” she continued as if she didn't have a large, angry companion sitting on her bedroll and _glaring_ , “My past is chasing me, and I keep running so I don't have to face what it means- all the hurt and the anger and the heartbreak. I keep running, but at some point I'll have to face it. I'll have to face it, and only then can I face my future with a clear head and steady heart. You know?”

Her companion yawned again before starting a series of stretches on its own. She laughed, standing up straight and tousling its head. “C'mon on. Time to pack up and move out.”

Another growl, another rub against her legs, and the animal was moving, blending into the forest to seek out their breakfast while she broke camp. It would be fifteen minutes before its return; it was their unspoken limit before one went looking for the other. It wouldn't even take her ten to finish packing- she refused to bring anything unnecessary this time, having learned her lesson well years before regarding unnecessary clutter and her pack.

A smile teased her mouth as she remembered the stoic dwarf who was her companion during one of the most trying times of her life. Dorna returned to life at Hilltop with a shrug and a smirk, promising to save her room should she ever tire of living in the wilderness, and she had replied that she'd keep a room open should Dorna ever tire of teaching children and trapping Xanos in wires and frost.

“ _Not bloody likely,” Dorna snorted. “Torturing that big oaf is one of my few joys in this world. Don't take that from me too, girl.”_

She came back to the present with a shake. Her companion had sensed her wandering mind and nudged her back to her current task. With a sigh and a self-depreciating laugh, she finished tidying up her campsite and turned to face Waterdeep once more.

“Time to move on, _voronwer_ ,” she whispered. An eastern wind blew; she smiled, relishing the feel of the cool breeze against her skin. It was almost as if it was pushing her towards Waterdeep, pushing her towards her future. With a secretive smile, she shouldered her pack. With her hand on her weapon, Elowayen began her march towards her fate, her companion trotting faithfully beside her.

-o-

Tensions were running high in Lith My'athar. Rumors whispered through the streets; Nathyrra had been dispatched to retrieve the Savior. Some whispered that it was a great warrior, others whispered a powerful mage. All of them mentioned that it was a _darthiir_ come to save them- a rumor that had several preparing their deadliest poisons and stealthiest assassins. _Darthiir_ were not to be trusted, regardless of what the Seer promised, and many were itching for the chance to battle such a creature.

In the temple of Eilistraee, the Seer gathered her generals for yet another conference of war. She was seated in the high cleric's seat, a chair that once served the priestesses of Lloth but now stood, freshly carved and reconstructed to honor the Lady of Light. The Seer, her lavender eyes soft, conferred with two of the priests of the temple regarding their latest mission to recruit more drow from the Valsharess.

Her military commanders took control of the center of the room. Some were seated on velvet cushions borrowed from the clerics quarters, others stood over a table covered in maps and tokens, murmuring and writing on scrolls already heavy with ink. Positioned around the room were yet more soldiers, many with their weapons at the ready. As soon as the Seer had sent Nathyrra away, the attempts on her life had increased. Already three guards and a lieutenant were waiting burial, and no one spoke of how many more would fall before the former Sister returned with their prize.

Angry shouting broke through the priests' murmurs. The two highest commanders were at it again, each standing straight and tensed for combat. Sighing softly to herself, the Seer nodded to the priests before standing and moving slowly towards her generals. Valen, heads and shoulders above the rest of her troops, had tenuous control over his emotions these days. He took the deaths of the guards personally, as if it was his fault that he had not been present to strike down the assassin before they could do any harm. It did not help that Imloth, already at the end of his rope with their lack of supplies and men, was just as furious at himself for the same reason.

The Seer had rescued most of the drow in Lith My'yathar, and many felt they owed her their lives. Her generals, though different in their pasts, felt this more than most and were in agreement that her life was more precious than theirs.

It was the only thing they agreed upon.

“We have to do _something_ about supplies.” Imloth argued, his eyes narrowed and his voice a low hiss. He crossed his arms across his chest with a scowl. “ _You_ may be used to going without food, tiefling, but the drow are not. The soldiers cannot survive on tack and watered wine much longer. We need meat, and fresh grains. And let us not forget the more basic items as well- the priests are running out of bandages and herbs, and-”

“What I am or am not used to is not the point, Imloth.” Valen growled as his tail lashed the air behind him. “Who would we send, and where? Who would trade with those aligned against the Valsharess? We cannot trust anyone to deliver it safely to us, nor to send any men out to retrieve supplies themselves. We are stretched too thin as it is! The priests must make do with tearing sheets and clothing if they have to until we can manage to smuggle in more supplies, but the food stores are not negotiable! Perhaps it is time that the drow learned about self-sacrifice instead of merely killing-”

“You know _nothing_ about our sacrifices!” Imloth hissed as he drew himself to his full height. His hands reached for his mace, intent on using force to prove his point to the tiefling once and for all.

Valen merely snarled and dropped his hand to his flail. “Watch your step, drow. You may be the Seer's most trusted commander, but I am not afraid to display just _who_ is the stronger warrior in front of your troops.” Valen snapped back. “You forget how I fought when I first arrived- even starving and beaten I still-”

“ _Enough_.”

The Seer stepped forward, her head held high, her face serene. “We are not enemies here. Imloth, stand down. Valen, control yourself.”

“My apologies, Seer.” Imloth reluctantly stepped back. He lowered his mace as the Seer moved even closer. He exhaled as one of her hands lightly brushed his, bringing to mind fleeting touches of another kind. The kind that only darkness brought, because she could not show favor as the Seer, no matter how Eilistraee looked upon her chosen and their relationships.

Across from the pair of drow, Valen ducked his head. He began to breathe deeply, his eyes closed as he tried to silence the demon in his blood. The call for battle, the desire to _smash rend kill_ Imloth into pieces roared through him, burned like the fires of the Abyss-

“Do not allow yourself to dwell, my friend. Our salvation is at hand.” The Seer smiled enigmatically at the tiefling before she returned to her seat. Head raised and gaze steady, she turned her attention to Imloth. “Imloth, report. How much time do we have before-”

“ _Look out!”_

“ _Protect the Seer!”_

Valen _moved._

He charged past the drow in a blur, his only thought to prevent another death, another failure-

Beside him, Imloth stood with his mace ready. Valen did not need to look to see that Imloth's eyes _burned_ with the battle fever, he knew, just as he knew his own burned as well-

A portal split the air in the temple, a blinding white light that softened to a steady glow. He could feel the thrum of the magic, deep arcane magic, that connected the portal's origin to the temple- magic that could possibly be traced back to the mage who dared threaten the Seer-

A shadow moved in the portal, a shape that became gradually more defined-

He crouched in front of the dais with a snarl, his flail at the ready. Around him, drow warriors readied their weapons as the shadow moved and a woman's shape appeared. He raised his flail; around him the sounds of bowstrings tight and ready to release-

“ _Hold_ _!_ ” the Seer commanded as Nathyrra exited the portal's glow. “Do you not recognize one of our own!” She stood and moved towards the assassin, her passage marked only by the whisper of her robes on the stone floor. “Nathyrra, you have returned to us. Did you succeed?”

“Mother Seer.” the assassin bowed, white head low and near the ground before she straightened, eyes bright. “I bring good tidings; Halaster has been freed, and-”

With a roar, a panther sprung forth from the portal and landed on the floor with a growl. Its tail lashed back and forth as it locked eyes with Valen, fur raised along its back ridge as it challenged him.

“Oh, and who's this?” The Seer queried, amusement light in her voice. “I do not recall our Savior being covered in fur.”

Nathyrra merely grinned as she moved forward and knelt to pat the animal on the head. “One of our allies, Mother Seer. The other two should-”

“YIPE!” A tumbled mass of cloth and scales rolled out of the portal and crashed to a stop next to the panther. It shook itself upright, its cloak flung wide to reveal a kobold, _a kobold with a lute and wings_ , of all things to be teleported into Lith My'yathar-

And then it opened its mouth. “Oooh, Deekin no like teleports, boss. Boss? Hey drow lady, where's Boss?”

Behind the new arrivals, the portal sparked and hissed. Streaks of lightening licked the stones in the floor, leaving a scent of ozone and magic. Slowly, it faded away, and around the room the drow lowered their weapons when it finally disappeared back into the ether.

A third figure crouched on the ground where the portal once stood, gloved hands pressed to the cold stone as they tried to regulate their breathing.

“There, little kobold,” Nathyrra announced proudly as she gave the cat one more pat. She clapped the little lizard on the shoulder before she stood straight, pride bright in her eyes. “She's there.”

The Seer moved forward, past the her generals who hissed and growled warnings; the serene look on her face drove them mad with anger as she disregarded her own safety. She knelt in front of the almost prone figure, her robes spread like white wings. “Easy, _jalil_ , you are safe here.”

“Forgive me, my lady, if I don't exactly take you at your word right now.” The woman's voice was dryly amused from under her hood. “But I was just sent through a portal by an insane archmage who cursed me with his own twisted version of a geas, and I've never been a particular fan of portals to begin with. For all I know, he's sent me straight to the Valsharess's camp.”

“ _Elowayen_!” Nathyrra scolded as she moved forward to crouch in front to the figure as well. “You're being rude.”

“You're still being evasive.” Elowayen sat back on her haunches and finally pushed back her hood-

Valen sucked in his breath. She was an _elf_. He had heard the rumors of a darthiir warrior, true, but he had dismissed them as merely that- rumors. Here in front of him, however, was the living proof that perhaps he should have paid more attention to the whispers.

She was tall but slender, delicate and ethereal with bright green eyes and curling brown hair. She looked more a highborn lady than a warrior; completely the opposite of what the rebels needed. Her armor was leather, bright green leather with a darker green cloak. On her hands were brown leather gloves, worn and practically humming with magic. His eyes narrowed as he took in the bow string on her back, the quiver at her side, and a sword buckled to her hip. An amulet glittered at her throat, and he could hear the clank of bottles as she removed her pack and set it on the floor next to her. She at least had weapons and potions for this journey, he gave her that, but he was still in disbelief that this slip of a woman could be the aid they so desperately needed.

The kobold didn't help matters, either.

“BOSS!” the kobold scrabbled over to the elf, words dispersed with yips and growls in its excitement. “We is in the Underdark!”

“So it appears, Deeks.” she chuckled as she sat down on the floor. “Easy, now. Remember, teleports.”

“Oooh yeah, Boss never liked teleports. Even back when-”

“No stories, Deeks.” The elf- Elowayen- interrupted tiredly. “Not right now.” She rubbed her face with a gloved hand before she cast a look at the temple around her. “Well, this is... an interesting choice to send us. Lolth?” She questioned, looking at the Seer with slight apprehension.

The Seer chuckled lightly before she stood. “No, not anymore. Not for a long time.” She shook her head before she offered her hand to Elowayen. “Come, there is much to discuss.”

“I'd rather remain sitting, if you don't mind.” The elf shook her head- and only then realized that her panther was still on guard. She turned to her companion to see what had caused all the growls and snarls-

And realized that her beloved cat had challenged a tiefling who had responded with an equal number of growls and snarls- and a very large, deadly looking flail.

-o-

He crouched in front of an empty chair, an equally as-armed drow by his side. She inwardly cringed; trust her companion to pick out the most deadly of those present and outright threaten them. With a mental sigh, Elowayen sent out a tendril of calm command to her companion, instructions for her to back up until she was by her side.

The cat ignored her.

Elowayen sighed again, this time outwardly, and ignored Nathyrra's poorly-hidden delight at the spectacle in front of them. Instead she repeated her command, this time with more force and an added push of disapproval.

A deep, rumbling growl sounded from the companion. Elowayen swore mentally; Deekin hated it when she acted “coarse” but this was beyond ridiculous.

Finally, she raised her gaze to the tiefling to study him more fully. She started low, a habit drilled into her head by Drogan all those years ago. She noted how his armored feet were placed on the stones, how he crouched in his plate mail. She marked how he held his flail, with familiarity and with the grip of a warrior who has fought long and hard with a weapon, and both loved and hated it for all that it has done. It was a disquieting revelation, as she once held her beloved sword the same way. The same sword that had been stolen by the drow assassin, the sword that her master had given her before she ever set foot towards Neverwinter. She studied how broad he was, how he had to be strong, insanely strong, to be in such a position in such heavy armor and not waver. Finally, she raised her eyes to his face-

And realized exactly _why_ her companion was so intent to challenge him.

 _Oh, he's a handsome one_ , she thought dazedly before she shook her head in dismay. “Shery! Attend!” she ordered, voice firm and full of command. Her hand was raised and stretched towards the animal; while it added a bit of style to the whole demonstration, it also allowed Elowayen to add more power to her unspoken thoughts and commands. It usually worked, and the panther would usually obey and come back with a purr and a nudge for a bit of dried meat-

The panther ignored her.

Elowayen lost her patience. “Shery. _Now._ ”

-o-

Valen watched as the beast began to stalk backwards. The entire time, it held its body low to the ground and never took its eyes off of his. Inwardly, he approved- even her companions, as odd as they were, had some sense about them.

The cat continued to back up until it reached Elowayen's side, only to turn and rub against her like it had done nothing wrong. It even purred slightly, as if to beg forgiveness. Elowayen, for her part, wrapped her arms around the beast and began to whisper in its fur. Valen strained to hear what she whispered, but only caught snatches of Common and what must be the surface elf language. Something she said must have aggravated the animal, because it backed away and gave her a very expressive look, one that clearly communicated disbelief and mild disgust.

“ _Tampa tanya!_ ” the elf snapped, her eyes full of emerald fire. “I know what I am doing, _voronwer._ You do not need to worry, and you will stop thinking of that!”

The cat hissed angrily and bowed its head. 

“ _Amin hiraetha, mellonamin_.” the elf sighed, and reached out a hand that trembled. “I'm still off kilter from things, and I do not mean to snap at you.”

The cat sniffed disdainfully and leveled another look at the elf. With a sigh and a nod, the elf looked away- only to be butted by the cat once more. Elowayen laughed before she wrapped her arms around the animal once more and nuzzled its neck.

“I'll be alright in a little bit, _mellonamin_.” she murmured into the beast's coat. “I just need more time. You know how I am with teleports. Even the clerics of Tyr couldn't help with that.”

The beast rumbled deep in its chest before it flopped to the ground next to its master. With a rusty purr, it laid its head in her lap and gave her a hopeful glance.

“Sorry about that.” Elowayen flashed the room a sheepish grin. “She's... protective of me and worries I might do something foolish.” She caught his eye and flushed slightly, her cheeks a light pink. Beside her, Nathyrra snickered into her hand before she looked away, lips pressed tight to contain her amusement.

Valen merely nodded before straightening up, not quite trusting himself to speak with the girl-

 _For that's all she is, a girl,_ he thought to himself as he watched the Seer and Nathyrra explain the situation. _A mere slip of a girl with no chance against the Underdark itself, let alone the Valsharess-_

“Seer, I really must protest this.” The elf's tired voice broke into his thoughts. He looked, and saw that she appeared drained and worn, like she had been going at her full strength for far too long. S _he probably had_ , he concluded as he remembered that Halaster had been mentioned. _Undermountain was no child's play, so she is at least capable, but I still don't quite trust her._

“Protest?” Nathyrra looked ready to hit the girl, still seated on the floor with a panther and kobold curled against her. “Protest what the Seer has seen and decre-”

“No, not that.” Elowayen shook her head. “I'm much too tired to even think about all that right now, and as it is... I've seen and done enough that I wouldn't try to question the gods, or their servants.” She gave Nathyrra a slight smirk before she continued. “However, I have just spent the past month and a half running around a dungeon invested with puzzles, traps, trolls, evil fairies, rakshasas, dragons, drow- no offense,” she shot another smirk Nathyrra's way, and to his surprise Nathyrra _returned_ it- “and frankly, I'm exhausted, I'm hungry, and I would really like a bath so my loyal and _dedicated_ bard would stop mentioning the state of my clothing and hair.”

“Boss is an epic hero and must look like one. Not look or smell like a bum.” the kobold announced. Loudly. Imloth coughed into his hand as the Seer hid her smile. Nathyrra, however, openly grinned as the elf shot the reptile a poisonous look.

“So what are you protesting then, _exactly?”_ Nathyrra crouched down to the surfacer's level.

“Honestly?” the elf shook her head with a slight smile. “I want a bath and a meal before I become a prophetical savior again.”

“ _Again_?” Valen couldn't help the snort of disbelief that followed his question. “You hardly look able to survive a hard day's labor, my lady, so forgive me if I disbelieve your claim.”

“Disbelieve all you want, it doesn't change the fact that I'm sore, I'm tired, and I stink.” she shrugged carelessly and moved the panther's head off her lap with a gentle nudge. “Give me a day's rest and I'll listen to everything you have to say, go off to do whatever I need to, but until then, please kindly just let my head stop spinning.”

“I think we may be able to accommodate you, my friend.” The Seer smiled gently. “The temple baths are located downstairs; I can have Nathyrra escort you there if you like.”

“That would be lovely.” Elowayen smiled in relief as she stood. “If you could show me a bit of soft earth to lay my head after that, I would be in your debt.”

“We will make up a room for you while you bathe,” the Seer promised. She inclined her head to Nathyrra.

“Oh no, please don't bother with that.” Elowayen shook her head in protest. “I am a _taur'amandil_ \- a druid. There is no need for me to sleep indoors, and no reason for someone to be out a bed when I'll only be here for a night.”

“Only a night?” Valen snarled angrily, stepping forward. “Only a _night_?”

Elowayen blinked at him, surprised. “Well, yes. If I'm supposed to go cavorting around the Underdark to try and kill the Valsharess, there's really no point in me staying in this temple, is there?”

Valen opened his mouth to reply, only to clamp his jaw shut as Nathyrra swept the elf away with panther and kobold in tow. She explained that the surfacer- the druid- was in for a treat, as the drow had some of the finest soaps in all the lands. The surfacer's laugh bounced back to him as she commented about the musky scent of drow. It was a light musical sound, one that was suited to fields of green and light, not the halls of a temple in the Underdark. It also served to display just how _tired_ she was, the strain obvious in her voice as she walked away.

 _It would be much more enjoyable to hear when she is rested_ , he thought, only to flush slightly at the thought.

-o-

“Valen, there you are.” Nathyrra made her way down the corridor towards him, her movement sinuous and smooth. “Have you seen Elowayen? It's been about an hour since I took her to the temple baths. The kobold's already up and bouncing about- he claims he has so much inspiration that he can't sit still.”

“No, I haven't.” he growled out. “I have been discussing certain things with Imloth while you were out playing with our guest.” He began to move towards his room, a signal of the end of the conversation.

“Oh. She must still be downstairs.” Nathyrra shrugged, and to his annoyance began to walk with him. “I wanted to speak with her.”

“As do I.” Valen muttered. He ignored the look Nathyrra sent him.

“So, Valen... what do you think of her?” the assassin asked him with a sideways glance, her tone light and teasing. “You were certainly caught up in how _soft_ she was- thinking about how she would survive a night of hard lovemaking and-”

_A flash of pale, delicate skin. Brown hair and hazy green eyes against the black sheets of his bed. Rasping, throaty gasps. The feel of her skin under his teeth, the taste of her-_

Valen spun around, his cheeks bright with a blush that had _absolutely nothing_ to do with the druid. “Nathyrra, the Seer respects you, and for that, I tolerate you, but I will not have you making such- such _lurid_ accusations towards me.” he snarled, face twisted in anger. “She is a compatriot in this, nothing more, and I will not have you substitute _your_ actions for _mine._ Understood?”

Nathyrra laughed. _Laughed_. At him, Valen Shadowbreath, for defending his honor against her baseless and disgusting ideas-

“Relax, General.” She mock-saluted him, but did not still her giggles as she turned to go back the way she came. “If you entertain such fantasies, they are yours to entertain, not mine. I'm sure _she_ would agree.”

“ _Nathyrra._ ” Valen snarled- but the assassin was gone, hidden in the shadows as her laughter bounced down the stone halls.

-o-

Valen stalked down the steps that led to the temple baths. His tail twitched angrily behind him, an outward sign of his displeasure. It had been an hour since Nathyrra had taunted him about the newcomer, and the _only_ reason he was going down here was because the Seer required him to do so.

“ _Could you find Elowayen?” her brow furrowed, the Seer gazed off into the shadows of his room. She had appeared like a wraith, her knocks on his door as gentle as her voice. “I would send Nathyrra, but she's made herself scarce- I imagine she's finding herself company for the night, as it has been a while since she's been in Lith My'athar.”_

“ _Seer?” Valen prompted. “Why do you seek the surfacer?”_

“ _Oh.” The Seer shook her head with a small smile. “Her room is ready, and I know you are not above dragging her there if she protests sleeping in a bed.”_

It was Nathyrra's fault, he told himself, her fault and her taunts that caused him to flush a bright red at the Seer's words. The Seer had said nothing, merely notched a silver brow at his reaction as he stuttered out a promise to find the elusive newcomer.

A promise that led him to the temple baths, as none had seen her since she had gone down to clean up. When he asked her kobold about it, the creature had shrugged and said that she enjoyed long baths, as she so rarely had the chance to indulge herself with warm water.

 _It's still Nathyrra's fault_ , he told himself desperately as he neared the doors to the bathing chambers. _It's her fault I'm thinking of the surfacer like_ this _-_

He quietly opened the doors, cautious as he looked around to see if there were any females that would screech at him for this intrusion- or worse, _proposition_ him- before he entered. His boots rang out as he moved through the chambers, listening for any sign of Elowayen.

The final bathing chamber was dedicated for Eilistraee's clerics, but it would be like Nathyrra to put Elowayen there. He rubbed his face, annoyed at the precociousness of the assassin, before he pushed open the door.

There, seated on the underwater ledge, was Elowayen. She leaned against the opposite edge of the pool, her hair wet and curled around her face. The water lapped at her chest, barely covering her as she tranced. Her eyes were closed, her breathing deep and even in her reverie. Mentally, he groaned; waking an elf, any elf, from reverie before they were ready was damn near impossible. He really had no choice, however, and so moved to wake her. His footsteps were relatively light-

With a roar, the panther was in front of him, full of challenge once again. It snarled and swiped at him with its claws, ears flattened close to its head as it guarded its mistress.

Valen snarled back as he avoided the beast's attacks. He spared only a glance to see that Elowayen had not woken at her beast's cry-

The animal attacked in his distraction. He failed to move out of the way in time and landed hard on his back. The panther was a mass of muscle and fur on his chest, full of claws and snarls. It moved, quick and lethal, and Valen felt claws slice his cheek open.

With a roar, Valen _let go_ , and the the world went red.

The beast snapped its jaws close to his throat. It snarled as he blocked it with a bracer, grateful he had not stripped from his armor. He freed his hand and rammed his fist into the beast's side. It roared again in pain before it turned and sank its fangs into his forearm. Valen snarled as he rolled to the side, an attempt to shake it loose- only to have it release him to swipe at his face again with claws as sharp as knives. Valen dodged away and began to circle; the panther mocked him and began to follow his steps.

Something caught the beast's attention; it turned its head and he wasted no time. He rushed in with brute strength and fury. With a bellow, he charged the creature and caught it with his shoulders. The points on his armor dug into flesh as he caught and lifted the animal. With a snarling, he flung it away from him and watched with a sort of maniacal glee as the panther flew across the room. It crashed into the wall, and he wasted no time to move in, his flail ready to crash into its skull-

“ _WAIT_!”

Valen turned at the sound of the cry. He froze in place as something small and wet threw itself on him, voice loud and plaintive.

-o-

Elowayen clutched at his arms, her body wet and flushed from the water and the last vestiges of Shery's emotions. Her hair clung wetly to her curves; water dripped from her to the floor. She stood, completely unashamed of her nudity, fear and anguish written on her face as she forced his attention from her companion.

“Please don't!” She begged him. Her eyes searched his, looking for anything but the anger that twisted his features. “Don't hurt her anymore, please!”

 _Yes, hurt this one,_ the demon in his blood cried gleefully. _Hurt this one instead. She teases you, taunts you. Can you not smell her? She is ripe,_ ripe _for you to take! Take her. TAKE HER. Plant your seed in her and make her scream!_

Valen shook his head slowly. The images his blood showed him were nauseating and grotesque in their violence. He closed his eyes as he fought to beat back the demon in his blood, fighting to control his breathing and racing heart. He tried his best to ignore the flush of heat coming from the slight elf pressed against him, but eventually he gripped her arms and pushed her away. He heard her stumble on the wet tiles but did not open his eyes; to open his eyes this soon would mean a loss of all control. Slowly, he regained control of himself and opened his eyes. Elowayen stared at him from a few feet away, still nude and wet and uncaring. Her eyes searched his again, for what he didn't know.

“Are-” her voice cracked slightly, and she nervously licked her lips before she tried again. “Are you... you, again?”

Valen nodded, his gaze trained on her lips as she spoke. “I... apologize. I am not usually so... out of control.”

She shook her head. “It's my fault. I asked Shery to stand guard for me while I bathed. I may be a surfacer, but I know how the drow are, especially with outsiders. I didn't trust them to not come and- well, that's not important.”

“I am... sorry, for the pain I have caused you.” He inclined his head slightly, before he stiffly moved back. It was about then he realized that she was still naked, and wet, and now he was wet too-

He flushed red from the roots of his hair to his feet. He spun around and refused to look at her, a long forgotten sense of propriety rearing its head. “I apologize for my brazenness, my lady. I will leave and let you become decent before-”

“What? _Oh!”_ Elowayen laughed behind him. “Truthfully, you are far less brazen than most, _heru en amin_ . I often forget that not all are as comfortable as I am.”

“ _Heru en amin?_ ” he questioned, his head tilted slightly to hear her answer.

“It means my lord in my native tongue; a non-familiar lord, of course,” she replied, her voice somewhat muffled as she dried her face. “I wouldn't address you familiarly until we were better acquainted.”

“I am no lord.”

“I am no lady.” she shot back with a smirk. She dropped the towel on the chair before she picked up the robe Nathyrra had left for her use.

Her bare feet padded on stone as she walked to the tiefling. The silken cloth swished, and gently she touched his arm. “I am as decent as I can possibly get now, so why don't you tell me why you've come here while I heal Shery?”

He turned, his jaw tight as he watched her move towards the injured companion. She was clad only in a short, dark silk robe. Her hair, darkened by water and low light, soaked the robe to the point she may as well have been nude again for all the cover it offered as it clung to her form.

Elowayen ignored the surly tiefling as she knelt in front Shery and murmured words of endearment and praise to her companion. Her hands shook slightly as they passed over the wounds left by Valen's armor; deep gouges that oozed blood, and there she sported broken ribs from the impact of meeting the wall. Elowayen blinked back tears as she started to heal but still whispered to the injured cat, a tradition they had shared since they had first met.

“I'm so sorry, _voronwer_ , I never thought you would get this hurt. _Shhh,_ don't move. I'll take care of you, yes, and you'll be strong and whole again.”

Shery whuffed and nuzzled her hand. Elowayen gave a watery laugh and shook her head at the unspoken query. “I'm not blaming you, _mellonmin_ , I'm blaming me. I thought the drow would be our biggest concern here, not _this_. I'm sorry, _voronwer_ , I'm so _sorry_.”

So engrossed in her task, Elowayen did not register Valen's appearance at her side until Shery growled a warning. Elowayen was startled by the noise and turned to regard the tiefling with wide eyes.

“Is there... anything I can do?” he asked softly, his gaze on the panther's wounds. “I have slight knowledge of healing, and this... this _is_ my fault.”

Elowayen smiled gently as she shook her head. “No, Shery will be fine in no time. The most you could do at this point is to gather my hair out of my eyes.”

“I am yours to command.” he murmured in her ear, reaching forward and catching the still-wet strands.

 _Oh,_ Elowayen blushed slightly as the tip of a callused finger brushed her cheek. _He's a charmer. I can see why Shery was so wary of him._

-o-

Valen did not speak as he began to plait her hair. Her hair slid through his fingers like wet silk and smelled of something light and clean and herbal, something unknown to the Underdark. He unknowingly breathed deep; a trick to catch the scent and memorize it as _hers._

 _It was a mistake to have him do this,_ Elowayen realized. She felt the heat radiating off of him on her back, heard his intake of breath as he braided her hair. _This is far too intimate, too close!_

She cleared her throat with a slight blush, desperate to break the spell of intimacy that was around them. “I would have never guessed that you could braid a lady's hair.” she spoke softly, her focus on the task at hand. She never forced healing if she could help it, preferring instead to heal over a longer period of time to minimize the damage and the pain caused by rapid heals. It was something her old companions were grateful for, as they were often on the receiving end of it. It was also the reason why she hated potions, however necessary they were; rapid healing _hurt_ , no matter who or what was doing it.

The tiefling chuckled darkly. “It is not a lady's braid that I weave, but a warrior's. It is a wise skill to learn when at war.”

Elowayen merely nodded, her throat tight as she felt his fingers comb through her hair. She turned her attention back to her companion, relentlessly focusing on healing every scratch, every injury she could find, and easing the pain of wounds too old to remember while she was at it.

She lost track of time as she knelt with a tiefling at her side and her oldest friend wounded in front of her. All she could remember later was the smell of blood and sweat, of water and animal and wet silk, and the pulse of magic steady beneath her hands.

When Shery was fully healed, the first thing she did was climb to her feet and lick Elowayen's cheek with a rough tongue. She purred as the elf laughed, heads pressed together in comfort.

“Yes, _voronwer_ , I'm grateful too.” She wrapped her arms around the beast and buried her face in the blood-stained fur. “And I'm far too cautious now. You're going home.”

The beast growled in reply.

“No, no arguments! I almost lost you, Shery, before we even set foot into the Underdark! I won't lose you out there!” Elowayen scolded. She reached and gripped the animal's face in her hands. She stared into the cat's luminous gold eyes, her own slightly wild and bright. “ _I will not lose you,_ Shery. Not you. Not after Linu, not after Dorna and Drogan, not after Aarin.” she whispered. Her voice broke on the last name, but the cat merely purred louder.

She released the panther's face, only to have it burrow into her side. It purred even louder, the sound a deep soothing rumble that even Valen felt in his bones.

Elowayen gripped the beast tightly, tears in her eyes. “You will go home. You will go home and you will wait for me there, you understand? You'll only come when I call you, and you'll keep our home safe. You'll keep it safe and wait for me. Understand?” Elowayen murmured. “I _will_ come home, Shery, but I will _not_ lose you here.”

With a sob, Elowayen released the panther and stood back. Tears and blood streaked her face, marks of desperation and love. “I love you, _voronwer._ I will see you soon.”

She raised her hands as the cat gave her one last plaintive look. She ignored it and instead murmured an incantation, one Valen had never heard before. The panther howled, a bone-chilling sound, as a bright white circle surrounded it. The animal glowed bright white before it disappeared completely, the circle full of sparks and ozone, same as the portal that delivered them to Lith My'yathar. Valen stayed where he knelt, watching the elf battle her grief at having to send her companion away.

She sunk to her knees, and futilely wiped at her eyes. “That was... harder than I expected.” She remarked to no one in particular, before she turned to Valen. “You have blood on your armor.”

“What?” He started. He craned his neck to study his plate mail. “Where?”

“Where you caught Shery.” her voice was soft, blameless, but he still flushed at her words. She stood and turned from him to retrieve a small wet cloth at the pool's edge. She returned to stand at his side, the cloth twisted in her hands. “Um... you'll have to sit.” She flushed a light pink as she added a bit grudgingly, “You're too tall for me to reach.”

“I can clean my armor myself.” he snapped, embarrassed that she would do something so... _intimate_.

“And I'm sure you can.” she snapped back. “Consider it a peace offering, you stubborn brute.”

Valen nodded, somewhat reluctant, as he found a dry patch of floor. He seated himself with care and closed his eyes. To push the demon farther back into the recesses of his mind, he forced himself into a state of light meditation, a handy skill that the Seer had taught him when he first arrived at her city.

Elowayen moved behind him, the rag damp in her hands. She had only offered to show him that she did not blame him for what happened, and in all honesty was rather grateful to him; he had shown her that Shery could have and probably would have died in the Underdark, and that was something she could not allow. She began to lightly clean the blood from his armor's spikes, the motions somewhat familiar and still somewhat alien. As a druid, she never truly had spikes in her armor, preferring the more natural leathers and hides that her order used. Mischa, however, was a fan of metal plate, and they had spent several afternoons in Hilltop, polishing her armor around the fire as they joked and told stories.

They sat in silence for a few minutes before Elowayen cleared her throat.

“ _Oh_... you never did say why you came down here.” she whispered. She gently scrubbed at a particularly stubborn stain; she hoped that it wouldn't need a full cleaning, as she had seen Mischa groan and complain about the hassle of it too many times to count.

“The Seer wished me to escort you to the room they have prepared for you.” he replied softly, his eyes still closed. “Nathyrra was her first choice, but she has disappeared.”

“Probably to go humiliate some poor male.” Elowayen huffed before she moved on to the other side. “She seemed to be of the opinion that simply because I follow the natural ways, I would be most... _forthcoming_ about my past endeavors and partners. I've _never_ been so uncomfortable with a companion before, and that includes the hafling.”

“The halfling?” Valen questioned, curious.

“His name was Tomi, and he positively _lived_ in the gutter. Filthy little street rat.” she explained, her voice affectionate. “I worked with him briefly, once before in Neverwinter, before I met Linu.”

Her voice turned sad, and Valen opened his eyes as he turned to face her. “Linu?”

“My dear friend, Linu.” Elowayen shook her head. “Now is not the time to speak of my adventures in Neverwinter, or what came after. Now is the time for sleep.” She gently pushed at his shoulder to turn him in another direction to finish cleaning his armor. “There. You'll probably need to polish it, but you should be fine for now.”

“My lady...” Valen cleared his throat as he caught sight of the dried blood on her face and robe.

“Yes?” she cocked her head to the side curiously. “What is it?”

“You have... blood on your skin.” he looked away, his face hot with embarrassment once more. “From when you hugged your familiar.”

“Oh!” Elowayen darted to the pool's side and leaned over to investigate. She missed the strangled noise that came from the tiefling when she flashed a bit of posterior. “Drat. That whole bath was a waste.” With a sigh, she slipped out of the robe and back into the water. She ducked beneath the surface with a small splash; Valen turned beet red when she resurfaced and climbed out with no regard to his presence. She picked up the soaked robe once again and inspected it as he spun around. He mumbled apologies as she shook out the fabric and ignored him completely.

“No hope for this thing now.” she muttered, and tossed it to the side. She reached for a large towel to wrap around herself instead. “There. That should keep the males at bay.”

 _At least, the drow ones, anyway,_ she thought to herself, her gaze turned to the embarrassed tiefling in front of her. With a smile, she watched as his tail twitched agitatedly, almost like Shery's when she wasn't allowed to go hunting under a full moon.

“I believe you said that there was a room for me?” she said lightly. She grinned inwardly when her voice caused the tiefling to jump slightly. With a devilish grin, she walked up behind him and made certain to brush against his tail in passing.

Valen stiffened as he felt the wicked elf brush his tail- _his tail_ \- as she walked past him to get to the doors. She gave him a smile that sent a rush of heat from his horns to his feet before she bent down to retrieve her traveling pack. “Coming?”

-o-

“When my men first told me you were here, I didn't believe them.” Imloth chuckled as he made his way over to sit next to a sulky Valen. “Apparently, even the greenest recruits can be right on occasion.”

“That woman is a devil.” Valen spat. He glowered at his tankard as if it were to blame for his troubles. “There are no words for just how-”

“ _Lively_ she is?” Imloth suggested as he raised his hand to signal for a tankard of his own. “I spoke with Nathyrra- you've never experienced a druid before, have you?”

“No.” Valen admitted before he took a drink. “Are they always so... so _open_?”

Imloth chuckled again. He slid over a coin to the bartender when he appeared with his ale. “At times. Some are a bit more than others. Did our fair lady proposition you for a night's worth of favors?” Imloth's grin was wicked as he watched the tiefling squirm. “Or did she do something even more sordid than that?”

Valen was silent and waited until Imloth had taken a hearty swig of ale. “She touched my tail.” he muttered, and watched with secret delight how the drow choked and sputtered on his drink.

“She _what_?” Imloth coughed. He grabbed a napkin and wiped at his tunic and leggings. “ _Your_ what **?”**

“She touched my tail.” Valen repeated as he watched Imloth's antics. “When she left the bathing chamber, she made sure to brush against my tail.”

“I'm certain I'm missing something about tieflings and their tails that I _do not want to know_ , but...” Imloth shook his head. “What exactly does that mean?”

“Do you remember when Matron Myrune... _accosted_ you in the temple?” Valen smirked over his tankard as the drow commander shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “Essentially, _that_.”

Imloth stared at Valen for a long moment before he burst into laughter. He thumped his hand on the table in delight. “Well, looks like she's declared her interest clear enough.” he chortled, and raised his tankard in a toast. “My congratulations.”

“I am not sure she meant to do so.” Valen muttered as he took another drink. “I... think she did it as a form of revenge.”

“Revenge? Why would the girl have any need for revenge against you?” Imloth inquired. He leaned forward eagerly; it was so hard to get good goss- intel, he correctly mentally, _intel_ \- in Lith My'yathar.

Valen sighed as he began to tell Imloth just what transpired between him and Elowayen in the temple baths. The drow stayed silent throughout the tale, even though his eyes would occasionally flash with annoyance at certain parts- most notably, when Valen admitted that he nearly killed their “savior's” companion.

“You're a fool, tiefling.” Imloth leaned back when Valen finished his tale. “To braid a woman's hair like that, any woman's, is a sign of intimacy and trust. In all truthfulness, _you_ propositioned _her_ first.”

“I did not mean-” Valen began to speak, only to have Imloth interrupt.

“No, you didn't, but in the end, you still did, and she was merely responding to your challenge in kind.” Imloth shook his head. “Gods above, boy, did _no one_ teach you how to handle women?”

Valen barred his teeth at Imloth. “Perhaps you forget, _drow_ , but handling women was not a requirement for a soldier in the Blood Wars.”

Imloth shook his head again, still in shock over the tiefling's lack of foresight. “Look, if you're not interested in her, tell her you're sorry for being... forward. If you are interested in her, just let her be for now. I'm certain she'll make up her mind regarding you soon enough.”

-o-

“He _what?!_ ” Nathyrra burst into peals of laughter and rolled around on Elowayen's bed. The other elf regarded her amusement somewhat sourly before she pointedly cleared her throat.

“He braided my hair, and then acted like a scalded cat when I touched his tail.” Elowayen grumbled at the drow encamped on her bed. “Move,” she commanded with a light shove, “I want to change and you're lying on my shift.”

“You'll have to forgive me, Elowayen, but this is just... oh, this is _wonderful_!” Nathyrra shook her head, a grin still in place as she obligingly handed over the shift. “Valen is always so _stiff_ , and here you are, running about naked and wet and-”

“Healing my mortally wounded companion and best friend, who he just happened to stab with his armor and fling into a wall?” Elowayen countered, her voice cold. “And then he offers to help. To help! As if some bumbling oafish warrior like him could possibly ever know anything about-”

“Well, he does.” Nathyrra shrugged, sitting upright and watching as Elowayen donned her shift, a relatively short, loose garment of raw linen she had picked up in Hilltop before she left.

The only reason she still had it was because she wore it when the assassin struck- even then, she had to beg Tamsil to mend it. She left instructions for the girl to leave it with Thesta when she was done- luckily, Tamsil had done just that, and one of the few possessions that Elowayen brought with had been saved.

Elowayen broke out of her reminiscing by Nathyrra's polite cough. “As I was saying, I've seen him keep a scout from bleeding to death before we could get him to the healers.”

“Well bully for him.” Elowayen grumbled. She sat on the bed next to the assassin and reached for her brush. “And then this stupid braid of his!”

“It's a nice braid.” Nathyrra said innocently. She grinned when the druid glared at her.

“I want it out.” Elowayen muttered petulantly. She tugged at her hair, reluctantly impressed that it was still holding without a tie. “I don't want a reminder of tonight and this stupid thing won't come _out._ ”

“Should I hunt down the master braid maker himself to untangle it for you, my lady?” Nathyrra teased. She admitted part of her amusement out of this whole thing was that she got to see the flush of anger on Elowayen's face. After all the trouble of Halaster's dungeon, Nathyrra thought she was owed some amusement, especially at the druid's expense.

“ _I will smite you_.” Elowayen hissed, turning a bright pink. “Just help me get it out!”

“I'd like to see you try.” Nathyrra challenged. She turned the other elf around with a laugh and a shake of the head. “Sit still and stop grumbling. The least you can do is tell me about the surface while I undo this monstrosity our general has created.”

“What would you like to know?” Elowayen replied. Her eyes closed halfway as she felt Nathyrra's fingers in the twists of her hair.

“Tell me about your homeland.”

“I grew up in a small city near Evermeet.” Elowayen began, her voice soft. “My parents were highly successful merchants, and raised my sibling and I in relative comfort...”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translation of Tel-quessir words and phrases: 
> 
> Voronwer – loyal one 
> 
> Tampa tanya – Stop that!
> 
> Amin hiraetha – I am sorry
> 
> Mellonmin – my friend
> 
> Taur'amandil – druid
> 
> Heru en amin – my lord (non familiar)


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Continuing the rewrite.
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own Neverwinter Nights, the characters or any of the locations mentioned herein. I own Elowayen and all the insanity that comes with her.

Valen stood at the entrance of the cave, arms crossed and on guard. He surveyed the terrain around him, aware of the slightest noise and movement in the shadows. The avariel, while vacant and numb to their surroundings, were still not completely safe. Valen knew firsthand the kind of devastation a madman could cause, and as the most seasoned warrior present refused to allow such harm to befall his compatriots.

Elowayen and Nathyrra murmured in low voices behind him as they prepared their camp. It had been a shock to find a drow camp so close to the Boatman's dock; Elowayen barely had time to draw her sword before they were upon her. Valen had barreled in, angry that she had gotten herself caught in such an obvious trap-

Only to gape in slight astonishment as she _danced_ through the drow's weapons, her shield raised to block the arrows fired by the Red Sister assassins. Behind him, the kobold began to chant and magic began to flow; Valen felt it flood his body, felt a rush of vitality and strength that had everything to do with that lizard's gods-damned lute. He grinned madly and raised his flail's haft to block a blow from one of the warriors- any aid was welcome in battle, no matter how... odd the source.

A shadow darted around the edges of the battle; as Devil's Bane tore through the drow's skull, Valen saw that it was Nathyrra. She flickered in and out of sight, her twin blades alight with a sickly green glow that he recognized as her favorite poison.

It wasn't until after the battle was over that Valen and the new Savior had clashed. She commanded Deekin to raid the corpses of anything of value and use before she turned to Valen and Nathyrra and demanded to see to their wounds. Nathyrra obligingly seated herself and allowed Elowayen to heal her with softly glowing hands. Valen, however, scoffed at her order and drank a healing potion instead- something that infuriated the druid no end.

-o-

“ _I didn't want you hurt!” she shouted. “That was the whole point to my healing you!”_

“ _Potions heal just as well as magic,” he sneered derisively. “I fail to see how you could be better.”_

“ _Because potions rush!” she snapped, eyes full of fire. “If someone were to land a blow on you now, you would be injured worse than before you drank that gods-damned thing-_

“ _Boss!”_

“ _Not now, Deekin. You can lecture me later.” she barked over her shoulder. Eyes back on Valen, she continued as if she hadn't just been scolded by a lizard. “I don't rush my healings, and make certain that everything is fully healed before stopping. Potions rush the healings, and you can and will be worse for wear if you rely on them so completely!”_

“ _You have nothing to fear, my lady,” the contempt in his voice made the title sound like a slur. “Your warriors will be in fit condition for you to command, have no fear-”_

“ _Chauntea's tits, this isn't about my command!” she shouted, hands on her hips. “This is about making certain my companions are safe! I will not have you injured, do you understand me? If that means I have to knock you unconscious to fully heal you, I will, and there is nothing you can do to change my mind!”_

_He told himself later that it was the challenge in her eyes and stance that caused the demon to react, that it was the threat to incapacitate him._

_He found his hand wrapped around her throat, a snarl deep in his throat as he pressed her against the crates left in the drow camp. He forced her down, teeth bared, until she was bent backwards underneath him. He_ burned _with the desire to force her to_ submit _, to make her bow and realize her place was not in front of him but behind. Valen did not follow, he led, and this little elf would learn her place soon enough._

_Bits of hair escaped her braid and clung to her skin, clammy with sweat from the battle. One of her hands gripped his wrist, the other pinned above her head by his other hand. He was surprised to see that instead of fear, her eyes blazed anger and a calculating gleam. “So, this is how the great general controls his troops then, is it?” she breathed, her voice a mere whisper that carried to all corners of the cavern. “By fear and wounded pride? You forget, tiefling, that I am no soldier. I am a druid, and battles for dominance are ones I know well. You will not force me to bend, and I will not submit!”_

_He had missed the glow of her hands until it was too late. She released her magic with a feral scream, a fiery blast that knocked him to the ground. With a snarl he regained his feet, only to find her on her feet as well. He watched her discard her sword, shield and bow through lidded eyes, watched as she stripped off her armor until she was in a tunic and leggings._

“ _If you want this, so be it.” her voice was still that quiet whisper. “No weapons, no armor, no magic. To use any of the three means forfeit and surrender.”_

“ _I accept.” he hissed in reply, his hands already at the clasps of his armor._

“ _Boss, this not right!” Deekin squeaked behind her. “We is in bad place, no time for kissy fights!”_

“ _Deekin, Nathyrra, stand guard.” Elowayen ignored the kobold's advice, her gaze focused solely on the weapons master. “If you need help, say so now and I will summon an elemental before we begin.”_

“ _The Seer will not appreciate this, Valen, Elowayen,” Nathyrra cautioned from her perch atop the crates. “This is folly, even for you two-”_

“ _So do not tell her, Nathyrra.” Elowayen replied softly, her eyes alert as Valen stripped himself of his armor._

_Her initial analysis of him was correct. He was well-built, his muscles visible under the fabric of his shirt. Leather breeches covered his lower half; something she was pleased to note as they would limit his movements somewhat. She would have to rely on speed, speed and the areas Tomi had once taught her- places to hit a man bigger than you that would bring him to his knees._

_When he was finally ready, he began to circle, footsteps light and barely audible. Her eyes slid to half-mast, watching and studying his movements. His tail was surprisingly still, but she noted how it would still sway with his movements._

Balance then _, she thought, and with that thought a wicked idea came to mind. She had no time to formulate a plan, however, because he_ moved _._

_It did not take long for him to catch her against the wall. He used his size to trap her against the stone, and gazed down with eyes of blue fire._

“ _Submit.” he demanded, voice harsh. “Submit and accept your place.”_

“ _Never.” she hissed defiantly, head raised to glare into his eyes. “I am not below you, I am not above you! I did not ask for this!”_

“ _But you have it,” he growled back. He leaned down until his mouth was pressed against her ear. “You have it, and you have Nathyrra, and you have me. I do not follow, elf, I lead.”_

“ _I do not follow either, tiefling, and you are mistaken if you think I wish for followers.” her breath was hot on his neck as she twisted to whisper in his ear. “And you are doubly mistaken if you think you can hold me here.”_

“ _You're not only mad, you're boastful too,” he chuckled darkly. The sound sent shivers down her spine, thrummed in her blood. He felt her tremble against him and smirked at the thought he had won-_

_Until she showed him exactly what she had meant._

“ _Do not underestimate me,_ general _,” she spat as she circled behind him as he knelt, gasping, on the ground. “A woman may be weaker than a man, but a man has places that a woman does not. Places that cripple, places that ache, as you are now well aware. You may thank my halfling friend for teaching me that one.”_

“ _You will pay,” he promised, his voice dark and heavy. “Dearly.”_

“ _If you wish it, m'lord, so be it.” she growled- and launched herself at him._

_-o-_

_After they had finally worn themselves out, Nathyrra had climbed off her perch and stood between the dusty, bloody fighters. “I do hope this settles any more claims of leadership,” she remarked dryly. “Otherwise I foresee a rather difficult future ahead of us.”_

“ _I am content,” the druid panted as she forced herself to a sitting position. She squinted at the tiefling through one eye, as her other had swollen shut. “Are you satisfied?”_

_Valen did not answer at first as he tried to reign the demon in. He did not know how the slip of femininity managed to wear him out so fully, but the demon roared for him to challenge her, to kill her and crush her beneath his boots. Eventually he replied to her question, voice thick with exhaustion. “Yes. For now.”_

“ _Good enough.” Nathyrra sighed. “Alright, you each get a potion-”_

“ _No.” Elowayen staggered to her feet, a hand pressed to her side. “No potions. That's what started this mess, and we both need something stronger.”_

_She stumbled to Valen's side and dropped in the dust next to him. “You won't object, will you?” she grinned through blood-stained lips; he realized that the blood was his. She had bitten his arm during the last bout, teeth deeply rooted in his flesh until he managed to shake her loose._

“ _Will you heal yourself first?” he replied, wincing as he sat upright. “I am used to-”_

“ _Congratulations on your stamina, but no.” She lifted her glowing hands to his chest. “I do not heal myself before my companions. Call it folly, but I will not have others sacrificed for my behalf- regardless of their orders,” she added when he opened his mouth to protest. “Now hold still and let me heal you.”_

-o-

He did not know how she survived the “battle”, but she did. The demonic blood in his veins rose to the challenge, and the power of the Wild magic in her rose as well. She was certain that she lost control first, and after she had finished healing herself Deekin confirmed it.

“Boss went feral. Boss promised not to do that,” Deekin scolded as he handed her a waterskin. “Boss broke Boss's promise.”

“Sorry Deeks,” she murmured. She patted his head affectionately, as one might a child's. “I had no choice, however, and it did more good than harm this time.”

“This time.” Deekin stressed. “Promise Deekin Boss won't do it again?”

“I can't promise that, Deekin,” she sighed. “You know what I am. Asking me to never go feral is like asking you to not sing, or breathe fire! It's just not fair to ask me something like that.”

Deekin cocked his head to the side. “Deekin never thought of it like that,” he said slowly. “Deekin wouldn't be any use to Boss if Deekin not sing or breath fire.”

“You would still be useful to me Deekin, just by being yourself,” Elowayen smiled and returned the waterskin. “I can promise I'll try to control when it happens, but that's all.”

“That's enough for Deekin.”

-o-

In the end, Elowayen refused to stay in the drow camp they left behind; she had pointed out that there was no guarantee they had killed all of the Valsharess's forces on the island, and to think otherwise was foolish. She instead suggested a search through the connecting caverns to see if the lost city of avariel offered any other location to make camp.

He had reluctantly agreed due to the logic of her insight, but the utter desolation of Shaori's Fell left few places for the adventurers to rest in safety. It was the kobold's fault, he acknowledged sourly, that they had even found this small, narrow tunnel in the rocks to rest for the night. He had tripped over a loose stone in the garbage and tumbled, head over tail, into the boulders with a yelp. Frightened, Elowayen chased after him with a panicked shout.

He and Nathyrra were barely able to keep up with her and only found her when Valen tripped over her crouched form. Apparently the kobold had bashed his head when he tumbled, and Elowayen found him unconscious. Thinking the worst, she immediately dropped to heal him, only to have Valen crash down on top of her when he followed her blind charge.

Even now, the kobold was resting on his bedroll, tucked in by the druid who refused to let him up and take watch due to his injury.

“But Boss!” he whined as clawed hands scratched at her arm.

“No, Deekin.” Elowayen's tone was gentle but firm as she moved glowing hands over the kobold's head. “You gave yourself a nasty bump, tripping over that rock. You need to rest until tomorrow, at least.”

“But Booossss-”

“ _Deekin.”_ Elowayen stood as the glow faded from her hands. “I will not hear this, you understand?”

“Deekin _found_ something!” the kobold announced. He dug around in his pocket as he spoke. “It's why Deekin tripped, he stopped to see it.”

“What did you find, little one?” Nathyrra crouched next to him and held out her hand expectantly.

“Shiny thing!” he announced, and dropped a piece of broken glass into the assassin's hand. “It glittered, so Deekin grabbed it for Boss. Boss likes things that glitter.”

Elowayen blushed as Valen snorted. “That's enough, Deeks.” she said softly as she bent down and placed her hand on his head. “I appreciate you getting it for me, but next time, let me know. I was worried about you.”

The kobold had the decency to look ashamed. “Sorry Boss. Deekin won't do it again.”

Elowayen smiled. “It's alright. Go to sleep, Deekin. We'll wake you when it's time to go.”

-o-

“So how do we want to divide the watch?”

Valen considered the druid's question carefully. Both she and Nathyrra did not require sleep, whereas he did; however, neither of them were suited for direct combat like he was. He was still deep in thought when Nathyrra spoke.

“I am not opposed to taking first watch.” she shrugged. “If you would take second, Valen, then-”

“No.” he interrupted with a shake of his head. “I will take the last watch; Elowayen, you will take the middle shift.”

“But why?” She questioned, her head tilted to the side as she watched him. “I could easily take the third.”

“You and Nathyrra may be elves, but you are not as used to going with less rest as I am. I will take the third.”

Elowayen studied him briefly before nodding her head in consent. “Very well, Valen. I will take the second shift.”

-o-

Later, when Valen unrolled his bedroll, he caught sight of Nathyrra and Elowayen. The two elves conferred in low voices at the far end of their shelter. Elowayen sported a slight blush, while Nathyrra wore a teasing grin. The drow murmured something to the druid, causing her to turn a brilliant scarlet and yelp.

“ _Nathyrra_!”

The drow merely laughed before she made her way towards Valen, her expression almost rueful. Valen waited until she was closer before he asked, “Is there a problem, Nathyrra?”

“There is a change in shifts. Elowayen will take the first.” Nathyrra informed him with a smirk. “I will take the second.”

Valen arched a brow at her; in response she merely chuckled and shook her head. “I'm afraid I have been sworn to secrecy by our fearless leader. All I can say is-”

“Your fearless leader has amazing hearing.” Elowayen's voice was dry as she moved to stand next to Nathyrra. “And you would best remember that before spreading her secrets.”

“Secrets?” Valen, bewildered, turn to stare at Elowayen. “What secrets?”

Elowayen flushed as Nathyrra cackled delightedly. “It's something that I have to overcome, as it is _apparently_ very amusing,” she shot a glare at the drow next to her. “I am... used to sleeping with my companion next to me.” She looked down and mumbled something to her boots, embarrassed to meet his gaze.

“And?” Valen prompted, still confused.

“And I cannot sleep without another warm body next to mine.” she exhaled in a rush as she looked up, her cheeks bright red.

“What about your kobold?”

“He snores,” the druid muttered, her gaze cast to the side. “And he kicks in his sleep.”

“Ah.” Valen made a a non-committal noise in the back of his throat. He watched as the druid flushed before she plowed ahead with her explanation.

“I asked Nathyrra to take Shery's place for the night, but she would not do so well if I woke her on accident, so we decided to exchange shifts.”

“You fear your instincts.” Valen nodded at the drow, who nodded back.

“Yes. I know Elowayen means no harm, but to wake me by climbing into bed while in my trance would be most disastrous. She will take first watch then, and when she comes to wake me for my turn, _at a distance_ ,” here Nathyrra turned and gave Elowayen a look, “I will wake safely, and she will not wake at all if I move in the night.”

Valen nodded in appreciation; while this requirement of Elowayen's was silly, they were at least practical about it. He watched as they moved back towards where they had set their packs and arranged their bedrolls side-by-side. He wasn't prepared for Elowayen to suddenly strip off her leather armor and her tunic.

He turned away as her chemise slid down on one side, revealing a pale shoulder and the curve of her breast. He ignored the giggles of the two women as he prepared themselves for the night as best he could. He had just removed his own armor and placed it within reach when Elowayen's laughter broke through his thoughts again.

“You are wicked, _Nathyrra_!”

“But truly, Elowayen- you intend to sleep in those leggings of yours?” Nathyrra's voice held mock indignation. “I cannot imagine them to be as comfortable as that!”

_Ah, those leggings of hers- long, fawn-colored leather that laced up the sides with ties of green. Green like her eyes, green like emeralds in firelight-_

“And how long would you have me take in the morning, putting them back on again, hmm?” Elowayen lightly challenged as she pulled a brush out of her pack. “It will take so much time to lace them back up again- far better they stay on, don't you think?”

“If it takes them that long to put on, how long does it take for a man to get them off?” Nathyrra leered at the pale elf, her eyebrows arched high.

Elowayen froze at the question, her mind going back, back years and years to an evening in Beorunna's Well. Back when her heart had been heavy, but one bright spot remained, a ray of hope and joy for her to return to every chance she could.

-o-

_She danced around the lodge, always just a bit out of his reach. She teased and tempted him as best she knew, until he finally caught her and drew her close._

“ _No more teasing, my love.” he growled as his hand slid into her hair. He tugged, lightly, and pressed his lips tot her throat as she arched against him. “No more. I cannot take one more night of teasing, of knowing your scent and your laughter but not your taste. I cannot take not_ knowing _you.”_

“ _So know me, then, my love.” she whispered. She slid her hands up his arms, delighted in the feel of corded muscle beneath hot skin. “Know me, and let me know you.”_

“ _I will not be able to let you go after this, Elowayen.” he murmured darkly. His eyes shone in the firelight. “I can barely send you after the Words now; how will it be once we-”_

_She silenced him with a finger to his lips. “We will face what comes, when it comes. Until then, my love, we will live for us, for now.” She arched against him again, heard his groan as he buried his face in her neck. “And now, I want you out of your furs, out of your armor, and in your bed.”_

“ _Wicked creature.” he breathed. He lifted her off her feet and strode to his bedroom; the door stood no chance as he kicked it open as he moved. “You torture me, Elowayen.”_

“ _How so, my love?” she teased as he laid her on the bed. She sat upright and removed her tunic; Aarin's breath left him in a hiss as she reached down to remove her slippers._

“ _You truly do not know?” he demanded as he unbuckling his armor. He dropped it carelessly to the floor, clad in only his breeches and boots._

“ _By coming to you in the middle of the night?” she teased. She knelt to untie the cords that kept the furs around his legs. He yanked her upright to, seal his mouth to hers in a rough, domineering kiss. He broke away, panting, as his hands began to roam over her bare skin._

“ _And wearing those breeches of yours.” he groaned. His fingers slid down her legs and dipped in between the laces to touch her skin. “How am I to survive removing them from you?”_

“ _With patience, Aarin love, with patience.”_

“ _Elowayen-”_

-o-

“Elowayen? Are you alright?” Nathyrra's voice broke through her memories. Elowayen's head snapped up; it all came crashing down then. She stumbled to her feet with a shake of her head.

“I- I can't- I have to- excuse me.”

With that, the druid bolted past a shocked Nathyrra, vaulted over the sleeping kobold, past a startled tiefling, and through the tunnel before any of them could move.

“What in the hells was that?” Valen growled angrily at the drow.

“How am I to know?” Nathyrra bit back. “We were only talking, and she was rather open. I made a comment about a man removing her leggings and she went... blank, for lack of a better term.”

Valen groaned. “Our prophetical Savior is nothing more than a lovesick girl.”

“Boss not sick!”

Nathyrra and Valen turned to face the little bard swaddled in blankets. “What makes you say that, exactly?” Valen growled. “She's certainly acting like it!”

“Boss not sick!” Deekin stubbornly repeated. “Boss not be in love since Boss met Deekin. Boss loved once, but not anymore. Boss never thinks of love, because love breaks hearts and Boss can't be broken anymore.”

“So what do you suggest then, master bard?” Nathyrra sat next to the lizard with a curious look on her face. “How do we handle this?”

Deekin tilted his head to the side carefully as he considered her words. “Give Boss time.”

“We do not have time to waste!” Valen stood and began gathering his armor.

“What are you doing?”

“Going after her, Nathyrra. Same as you should be.”

“No!”

Once more they turned to face the kobold, only to find him on his feet and clutching a glowing white stone.

“No!” Deekin repeated, holding the stone close. “You leave Boss alone! Boss just needs time!”

“By the pits of hell, you are all idiots.” Valen snarled. He dropped his armor and picked up only his flail. “I am going after her, kobold, and you will do well to not stop me.”

“Deekin not stop you,” Deekin agreed as the tiefling stalked to the cave entrance, “magic will.”

“Magic?” Nathyrra turned in time to see a glowing line etched into the stone around the entrance. “Valen wait!”

-o-

Valen sourly gazed at the kobold, who flat-out refused to drop the magical barrier he had erected across the tunnel leading out to the Fell. He now sat on his bedroll, arms crossed and face turned down into a pout.

“Boss needs time!” he repeated and stubbornly refused to release the barrier. “You make Boss cry, now Boss needs time.”

“ _Why_ did she cry, kobold? That is what I want to know.” Valen growled. “We do not have time for such drastic changes in temperament.”

“Boss only cries when she thinks of Neverwinter.” Deekin shrugged at the tiefling. When Valen silently demanded more information, Deekin stuck out his tongue at him. “She never talks about it, only says that it were her heart be broken before.”

“By a man?” Nathyrra guessed, her brows furrowed. “It was when I made a joke about bedfellows that she got that haunted look in her eyes.”

“By a man.” Deekin confirmed. “Boss only mention him once, and not to Deekin. To Dorna, and Deekin wasn't supposed to hear.” He paused, his head tilted to the side as he considered his next words. “Boss call him 'her dark lover', tells Dorna that he wanted to put her in stone cage. Deekin no understand that part, but Dorna did,” the kobold nodded to himself. “Dorna did, and asked her what happened next. Boss say that she love him, but not enough to die away. Said she ran, ran away until she found old master.”

“Old Master?” Valen inquired, intrigued in spite himself.

“Yup, Boss's old master. Old Dwarf named Drogan. Boss called him second father. Boss never liked real father.” Deekin shrugged again. “Deekin not sure he should be telling you this.”

“If you don't, how are we to help Elowayen?” Nathyrra coaxed as she leaned closer to the little bard. “We only want to help her, little one.”

“Okays.” Deekin said warily, but narrowed his eyes at both of them. “But you no tell Boss you gets it from me. Deal?”

“Deal.”

“Deal.” Valen acknowledged.

-o-

Elowayen shivered as she climbed higher. It had been easy to ignore the blank stares of the avariel; most of them had only nodded as she moved past, seeking a small piece of solitude. In her rush, however, she had forgotten her cloak, and the higher she went, the colder the wind from the Dark River seemed to be. Finally, she found herself on a small ledge, perched above Shaori's Fell, and it was there she let herself weep.

Aarin, her first love, but not her first betrayal. Their time together still stung to think of, still caused her pain, and she desperately avoided thinking about him as best she could. To think about him was to think of her other pain, the pain of lost friends and companions.

Linu. Dear, sweet, clumsy Linu. Her dearest friend in Neverwinter, an elf far from home who swore undying friendship. Brave Daelen, loyal and true Daelen who sought to honor his tribe and his mother's spirit. Beautiful, bold Sharwyn and her quest for adventure and the tale of an epic hero. Boddyknock, the brilliant little gnome who sought knowledge and to right the wrongs of his past. She loved all of them, bled with all of them, swore friendship- only to have their memory wiped away by Lord Nasher's cruelty

It wasn't enough that Aribeth had to die. It wasn't enough to force her to stand there, to watch as she was executed and then burned. No, Nasher was not satisfied until she went before him and told him that she could not stand by and help rebuild a city based on cruelty and vengeance.

Aarin had pleaded with her not to go, to not antagonize Nasher now that Aribeth was dead. She had kissed him, her dark lover, and made him promise to wait for her that evening in her rooms. She had gone to Nasher's personal study then, and gone through the empty solicitations and motions, before she blurted out her questions and her desires. It was then that her heart was shattered, and all she knew was lost.

-o-

“ _What would you have me do now, my lord, now that the city is free?” she asked him neutrally. She watched his face, carefully, earnestly, for any sense of his thoughts. “Return to the Neverwinter Wood to maintain the order there? It is truly the only place for a druid like myself to be. Or perhaps go to Beorunna's Well, to continue the treaty with the Uthgardt? Yusam was most pleased with our aid during the war.”_

“ _What would you like to do, Elowayen?” Nasher had responded, his eyes dark and unforgiving. “I am not your Lord, remember? You are not a citizen of Neverwinter- although that can be arranged.”_

“ _My lord?” She blinked in confusion._

“ _You have my spymaster wrapped around your finger; do not pretend otherwise. If you wed him, it will create the sort of encouragement the city needs.”_

“ _You would have me wed Aarin... as an order?” she asked in disbelief. “But what of our feelings? What if we decide that marriage is not for us?”_

“ _He has already agreed to it, Elowayen.” Nasher waved his hand in the air, dismissive of her defense. “In fact, it was his suggestion.”_

_The floor seemed to tilt underneath her feet; she shook her head and gripped the back of the chair in front of her. “He wouldn't...” she whispered as her heart twisted in her chest. “He wouldn't say something without asking me first.”_

“ _He did, and I want you to agree.” Nasher continued. “He explained to me that you did not wish to be at Aribeth's execution earlier today; I would apologize for it, but the city needed to see you there.”_

“ _The city.” Elowayen said bitterly. “It is always about the city, isn't it? For you, for him, and now you would chain me to it as well. A child of Chauntea and Silvanus, and you would have me in a cage of mortar and iron and stone.”_

“ _Watch your tone, girl.” Nasher warned, his voice cold. “You may be an elf, but you are young and foolish to the ways of men.”_

“ _You once said the same of Aribeth and Fenthick,” Elowayen held her head high and met his gaze squarely. “Are you warning me of what is to be my fate now, my lord, or merely informing me of your opinion?”_

“ _Aarin suggested this idea to me, suggested that you would be willing to stay here, for him, and that you would make a most willing emissary of Neverwinter.” Nasher pushed himself out of his chair and stood above her, face stern. “He stated that you would be a pillar of our society, willing to put aside your mantle as Hero if need be.”_

_Once again, her heart lurched in her chest. Aarin sought to make her timid, weak; a noblewoman locked away in a city and forgotten until the threat of her powers was required. Powers she would be forced to give up, powers that would be denied to her once she broke her vows. She felt a rising tide of fear and panic- this could not be happening. She forced herself to speak through sheer force of will, her words heavy and bitter on her tongue._

“ _No.” she whispered._

“ _What was that?” Nasher narrowed his gaze. “Think carefully, girl, of your choices here.”_

“ _I said no!” she shouted, anger burning away the haze of shock. “I will not be some pawn in your games, in your politics! I left my homeland and my family years ago for that same reason and I will not be tied to yours now!”_

“ _And what of Aarin Gend, Elowayen?” Nasher's voice turn sly, insinuating. “Are you refusing him too? The love of your life, the man who would die for you?”_

“ _I cannot love a man who seeks to take away all that I am,” she spoke softly, bitterly. “He seeks to cage me, to break me, and I will not let him. Or you, or this city. None of you will control me, and none of you shall have me!”_

_She spun to leave, only to have Nasher's voice stop her cold. “If you leave, Elowayen, you will be forgotten.” he warned, his voice dark. “I will find your companions, your supporters. I will have my mages cloud their minds and their memories- they will not remember you, they will not support you. You will be nothing but another nameless druid of the wild, should you leave.”_

_She straightened her spine without looking back. “Very well, Lord Nasher.” she spat. “Take them from me, as you would take my freedom. Even if I was not compelled to go to the wilds by my very nature, this alone would cause me to seek the solitude that only they can grant. A city betrayed and rebuilt on anger, on hate, on petty vengeance... such is no place for me, nor for what I stood for. What Aribeth stood for. What_ you _once stood for.”_

_She threw the doors open, ignoring his bellowed threats- only to freeze when she spotted Aarin in the corridor, his face a mask of sorrow._

“ _So, my love,” she mocked bitterly, “Come to give me a kiss goodbye before Nasher removes even the memory of me?”_

“ _Elowayen, I-”_

“ _Should have asked me first.” she spat, stalking past him. “Instead you plot my future with the lord of your beloved city, your first mistress, your true love- and you leave me to rot in the wake of your decisions.”_

_He grabbed her arm and spun her to face him. “Elowayen, don't do this.” he begged, his eyes beseeching. “Don't let him do this to you.”_

“ _Don't you see, Aarin?” she smiled, cold and bitter. “He didn't. You did.”_

_He released her, shock clear on his face. “Elowayen, I sought to protect you! To keep you safe-”_

“ _To make me soft and weak, defenseless and desirous only of you and how to serve your city.” she spat. “Did you ever truly love me?”_

_His eyes filled with sorrow, he nodded. “You know I did. You know I do.”_

“ _You love an idea of me, Aarin. An idea that you think is malleable, able and willing to change into a perfect diplomat.” she shook her head, backing away from him. “If you loved me at all, if you knew me at all, you would know that such things are not for me.”_

_She tore the amulet she wore from around her neck and threw it at his feet. The heavy gold necklace slid across the tiles until it reached his boots. As he knelt to retrieve it, his mother's necklace, she turned and ran._

_She did not see his eyes turn cold as she fled from him. She did not see him clutch the necklace in his hand, did not see him drop his head as she ran away from him, away from her first and only lover. She raced back to her rooms as fast as she could, her movements full of panic. Quickly, she shed her white dress, a creation of soft cotton and simple embroidery, and donned her traveling leathers. She threw all that was left into her pack- potions, weapons, armor, everything that she had left. It was not much, but it was enough to get here away, far away from Neverwinter and never look back._

_Fastening her cloak as she walked, pack thrown over her shoulder, she raced out of the castle as if the hounds of hell were at her heels. Her destination was simple; the Trade of Blades was closer, very close, and she knew her friends were all gathered there to share stories of the battles they had all fought on the front lines and to listen to Daelen tell the story of Morag's defeat. Above her head, clouds gathered and thunder rumbled._

_She ran faster; the storm felt unnatural, a summoned creation of arcane magic that foretold dire consequences. She arrived at the Trade in record time, terrified that she was too late-_

_Only to see her friends gathered in the main room, seated around a table as they celebrated their success with Trancar and his lieutenant. She stumbled to their table and begged Trancar for a moment alone with her companions, her eyes wild and bleak as she panted for breath._

“ _I don't have much time,” she gasped, dropping her pack on the table in front of them. “Nasher's mages could start at any time-”_

“ _Elowayen dear, calm down! What is going on?” Linu stood and came to her side, her arm around Elowayen's shoulders. “You can tell us, dear, don't worry. We'll help you-”_

_Elowayen shook her head and burst into tears. She sobbed as she told them of Nasher's plans, of how his mages would ensure that she would be forgotten. She told them, eyes red from tears, that the trinkets they had given her, items from their homelands and their hearts, had to be returned before she left. “If and when we meet again, I don't want you to hate me for having them. You would think I stole them, and you would hate me.” she cried as she sank to the bench. “I don't want you to hate me.”_

_Linu wept with her. The cleric held her close as they both shook with tears and shock. Sharwyn knelt on Elowayen's other side, her arms around them both. She swore to tell of Elowayen's bravery and selflessness, the deeds and qualities that made them all love her for years to come, that the Hero of Neverwinter would always be valiant and true-_

_Daelen, Tomi, and Boddyknock could only watch in silence as the women cried their goodbyes. It was Tomi who solemnly opened her pack and removed their gifts, Tomi who quietly returned them to their previous owners. Daelen's eyes, already hard from war and death, hardened further as he watched his companions weep. Boddyknock could only toy with his spoon, staring into his stew and unable to offer words of comfort._

_Eventually, when she had spent her tears, Elowayen staggered to her feet. “I must go- I can't bear it if I'm here when- when it happens.” she scrubbed at her face with her sleeve._

_One by one, she hugged each of her companions, starting with Linu and ending with Boddyknock on his stool. She kissed their cheeks and whispered goodbyes in their ears. Daelen was particularly overcome at his, and nearly crushed her in his embrace. She returned it as best she could before she pushed away. Tomi, of course, copped a feel of her backside when she knelt to hug him goodbye, but she didn't have it in her to scold him. Instead she laughed and let him, her hug for him a bit harder than normal to make up for the blush on her cheeks. Finally, after hugging the little gnome goodbye, she gathered her belongings and moved towards to the door, only to pause before she left for the last time._

“ _I won't forget you, any of you, I promise.” she whispered as she stood in the doorway. “I'll remember your stories, and all our adventures, and I'm just-” She swiped at her eyes, suddenly furious, “I'm so sorry. I love you, all of you. Remember that.”_

_She fled Neverwinter then, dodging through the city core, ignoring the hails of the citizens inviting her for drinks, for meals, refusing to look back. She knew that if she did, she would see Aarin, heartbroken and alone, and she could not bear such a sight._

_Once free of the city, she summoned Shery, strapping her pack to the panther's back, something the great cat had loudly objected to. She ignored her companion's protest and shifted into another shape, a shape just as sleek and deadly as her companion's. She roared, streaking away from Neverwinter and the ache of her broken heart._

-o-

In truth, she was grateful that Aarin's true colors had been revealed, as she might have married him, had he asked her first. She might have turned into a hollow shell of herself, an empty husk of the woman she once was. If she had stayed in Neverwinter, she never would have found Drogan. She never would have met Dorna or Mischa or Xanos or Deekin, never would have seen Hilltop or the trials thereafter.

She never would have befriended Ayala, or learned the ways of the rangers. She never would have found her beloved home in the Far Forest, a lodge hidden deep within the trees.

It didn't matter wonderful her life was, however. It still hurt to think of Aarin. To think of Aarin was to think of his betrayal, and to think of his betrayal was to think of the loss of her friends and companions. In time, she could and probably would forgive him for breaking her heart, but not for what came after. While Nasher was the true culprit, Aarin was still partially responsible for the loss of her friends.

With a self-depreciating sigh, Elowayen leaned back against the rock and closed her eyes. She owed Nathyrra and Valen an explanation when she returned to the cave. Even without the geas Halaster placed upon her, she still would have ventured to the Underdark to face the Valsharess. She still would have found her way here, regardless of what happened in Undermountain; she knew , deep in her soul, underneath the barbs of the mage's curse, that she was meant to be here. She had told her old classmates as much before she left Hilltop after Drogan's death- that something was calling her away. She told Ayala something similar when they parted ways at the Rauvin river- that she may make a home, but her journey was not yet complete.

-o-

“ _What do you plan to do, Elowayen?” Dorna asked her softly, sitting in front of the fire at Drogan's. She watched the druid take a sip of the mulled wine they found in the cellar, make a face at the taste, and put it aside. “Why don't you stay here and continue the school with Xanos and I?”_

“ _Dorna has a point, Elowayen.” Xanos boomed, toasting her with his cup. “Mischa's considering it already, and you were always the best of us.”_

_Mischa nodded emphatically, her blond hair slightly disarrayed from the cleaning she subjected the house to earlier. “You would be most welcome, Elowayen. Between us all, we would have teachers for almost all the schools of battle!”_

_Elowayen smiled, a soft, aching smile. “Thank you, all of you, but I can't.” Elowayen's voice was soft as she stared into the fire. “It's just... too much, you understand. This was only the second place I have felt at home, the second place I felt like I could make a life for myself after... after my past.” She cleared her throat. “But all I've found here, besides you three-” she gave them another smile, this one less heartbroken than the first- “Is more pain. Master Drogan was a father to me, as he was to all of you.” She shook her head, sighing. “There are too many ghosts, too many memories for me to remain here any longer. Besides... my path does not end here in Hilltop, no matter how much I would like it to.”_

“ _Where will you go?” Dorna leaned forward, her gaze steady and calm. “We rarely get attacked out here, and you swore you would never go to Neverwinter again.”_

“ _And I won't.” Elowayen shook her head. “I don't know where, honestly. Wherever the Earthmother and Treefather guide me, I suppose. I just know that my journey is not finished yet.”_

“ _I do not envy you, my friend,” Dorna shook her head. She took a drink of wine from her cup before continuing. “After Undrentide, I have no desire to keep adventuring. I think that staying here will be a nice finish to my story- to have the students of Dorna Trapspringer of Stoneshear go forth and make their own mark. That is how I will be remembered, and I can't think of a better way to be.”_

“ _I can't either.” Elowayen reached over and squeezed Dorna's hand. “Just like we will honor Drogan's memory, they will honor yours. And yours too, Xanos, Mischa.”_

“ _You will always be welcome here, Elowayen, should you desire to come back and teach.” Mischa smiled brightly at the elf, though her gaze was sad. “No matter what, should you ever need a place to stay, for however long-”_

“ _You'll find it here.” Xanos cut in, raising his cup again._

“ _Thank you.” Elowayen stood suddenly, eyes bright. She grasped her cup and raised it high. “A toast!”_

“ _A toast!” Xanos shouted, and surged to his feet. “A toast to us, that our names will be immortal through the ages! That our students will honor us, and our ancestors and theirs!”_

“ _To us!” Dorna cheered, cup raised high._

_They drank their wine, all but Mischa who shook her head. “While inspiring, that toast is boastful, and full of pride,” she chided. “We should toast to something else, something we can all agree upon.”_

“ _And what, pray tell, would that be, little paladin?” Xanos swerved to face her, splashing a little wine over his hand. “What could we all-”_

“ _To Master Drogan.” Mischa cut in. “To his memory.”_

_Silence fell over the four as they all thought about Mischa's suggestion. “It does have merit,” Xanos grumbled._

“ _To Drogan Droganson, then.” Elowayen raised her cup once more. “Our Master, our Teacher, our Father, our Friend.”_

“ _To Drogan.” the others raised their cups as well._

“ _May his memory guide us as we guide those after us.” Dorna added._

“ _May he watch over and protect our students, as he watched and protected us.” Mischa blotted at her eyes with her sleeve._

“ _May we train students to be as fine of adventurers as he.” Xanos raised his cup even higher._

“ _May we all do him proud.” Elowayen murmured and toasted the others._

_The four former apprentices downed the last of their wine as one; Mischa sputtered and gagged while Xanos laughed at her expression. “Not to your taste, little girl?”_

“ _Paladins should not drink.” she responded primly._

“ _Mischa, Xanos...” Elowayen sighed, then stopped herself. “No, never mind. Continue on.”_

“ _Elowayen?” Dorna peered at her friend, worried. “Are you alright?”_

“ _Promise you that you won't change. All of you.” Elowayen's eyes were bright in the firelight. “Promise me that you'll always laugh and tease each other like this. Please.”_

“ _Elowayen-”_

“ _Please.” the elf begged, tears slipping from her eyes. “Please, Dorna, Xanos, Mischa, promise me.”_

“ _I promise.” Mischa slipped to the druid's side, and gently, carefully, embraced her. “We all promise.”_

“ _Thank you.” Elowayen cried into her shoulder. “Thank you.”_

-o-

“Boss been gone for hour, right?” Deekin paused in his tales of Elowayen's adventures in Hilltop and after to give a worried glance to the tunnel entrance.

“Two hours, kobold, unarmed, alone, with no protection against any drow that might find her.” Valen shifted against the rock behind him. “We need to-”

“Boss be okay against drow.” Deekin shook his head. “Deekin worried Boss not be okay against Boss.”

“What do you mean?” Nathyrra asked, curious.

“Boss tends to beat Boss up over past.” Deekin paused again, head cocked to the side. “Deekin gots it!”

“What, exactly, would that be?” Valen asked dryly, annoyed that even Nathyrra's spells couldn't remove the barrier the kobold erected.

“A way to get Boss to come back!” Deekin announced. He scrambled over to Elowayen's pack and sniffed around until he made a noise of triumph. “Gots it!” He proudly waved a long, curly brown hair in the air. “Just what Deekin needs to find Boss.”

“A spell component.” Nathyrra breathed. She watched as the kobold hunkered down to dig through his own pack until he found a small, white crystal. “And that is?”

“Focus crystal. Boss still has Drogan Ring.” The kobold nodded to himself as he wrapped the hair around the crystal. He clasped it loosely in his claws before he muttered under his breath, his free hand held inches above the crystal.

They all watched as the small crystal began to glow brightly, before fading from view. Deekin nodded with a look of satisfaction before he yawned. “Boss be back soons now.” He nodded again as he crawled back onto his bedroll. “Night night.”

-o-

Elowayen leaned her head against the rock. The taste of cold and damp stone hung in the air, pushed against her senses. Overhead she could sense the rocky ceiling as it pressed down against the dark, an illusion of cold and heavy death just inches away. _Shery would have hated this,_ she thought to herself. _She never liked the cold or the wet. She preferred the woods, or places like Beorunna's Well. Places that were more wilderness than civilization, places where beasts were free to roam and the sky was clear overhead._

She smiled bitterly, remembering a more idyllic night; a night of tangled sheets and panting wordless cries, of slick skin and sweat, of whispers and devotions. She remembered jow Shery patrolled around the cabin to prevent any from disturbing her mistress and her mate. She growled and snapped at any who came too close- Aarin complained of how his scouts were terrified to knock on his door to make reports the next time she saw him.

They didn't have much time together, but the short time they did stamped Aarin's mark across her heart. Even now, she could still imagine the feel of his mother's pendant around her neck, heavy and gold and warm, just like his touch, like his laugh.

_Yes, I should remember things like this_ , she thought. _Remember the wonder and the pleasure, instead of the heartache and pain. Remember everything that brought light into your life, remember it and cherish it, and then put it away._

Elowayen drifted off into her memories then, remembering the good, forcing away the bad. Linu, with her head caught in a milk bucket after Boddyknock accidentally blew up the boiler in the Port Llast barracks; Shery, refusing to get off Tomi's legs after he tried to cop a feel for the first time; Daelen sheltering with her from a cold night with in the Neverwinter Wood. Aarin's smile as he held her close the night they declared themselves, warm and satiated and content in his lodge, the way his fingers trailed up and down her spine as she shivered against him.

A bright flash of light startled her out of her thoughts; a small white globe was in front of her, the shape familiar-

_A focus crystal?_ She stared, amazed, as it fell into her lap. She lifted it closer to her faces, noticing it full of sparkles and shone with a light that was not customary of the crystals. She studied it and noticed that a piece of her hair was wrapped around it. She touched the hair, lightly, and gasped when the crystal exploded into soft light. It formed the shape of a sad face before it finally dissipated into the air.

“Oh Deeks.” she chuckled. She shook her head and turned to begin her climb down. “Alright, alright, I'm coming.”

-o-

“The barrier is still up.” Nathyrra muttered. “How is she to return if he won't drop it?”

“I have no idea.” Valen glanced at the kobold, wrapped in blankets and fast asleep. “If we killed him, do you think it will drop?”

“I don't want to risk it.” Nathyrra shook her head. “I've never seen anything like this-”

“Probably because he stole it from an ancient Netherese city.” a voice remarked dryly.

Nathyrra and Valen both jumped, startled, as Elowayen leaned against the tunnel just outside the barrier. “Elowayen, I-”

“It's alright, Nathyrra,” the druid shook her head. “I acted like a child, and I apologize. I will explain in a bit, just give me a second-”

She frowned at the barrier before she moved forward slowly, until her open palm lightly touched the center of the invisible barrier. Teeth clamped on her lower lip, Elowayen began to push against it, eyes narrowed as the barrier began to glow. Slowly, she continued to push until her hand broke through and shattered the barrier completely.

“Thought so.” Elowayen shook her her hand to restore feeling. “It's only resistant to sudden force. Continued pressure works fine.” She winced as she shook her hand again. “Still stings, though.”

“Elowayen...” Nathyrra tried to broach the subject delicately, but Valen interrupted.

“What in the hells is wrong with you?” he demanded, his tone harsh. “Running into the Underdark with no armor or weapons? You're lucky you weren't killed!”

“I promised you explanations, and explanations you'll get.” Elowayen made her way over to her pallet to retrieve her blanket. She sat down and wrapped it around her shoulders like a large shawl. “If you would still like them.”

“Very much so.” Valen growled in annoyance. “Your kobold wouldn't even let us out to look for you.”

Elowayen sent the sleeping reptile a fond look. “He knows me well.” she murmured.

“Are we to know you well?” Nathyrra asked as she shifted until she was cross-legged in front of the druid. “If only to prevent tonight from happening again.”

Elowayen gave her an empty smile. “If you wish.” With a deep breath, she closed her eyes as she began to talk. “I was once known as the Hero of Neverwinter...”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own anything other than my lovely Elowayen, no matter how much I wish otherwise.

“You know, I hate golems.” Elowayen said conversationally as she slouched against the wall of the control room. “I really, really hate them.”

“These are particularly strong.” Nathyrra agreed as she leaned against the wall, assassin's grace a sharp contrast to Elowayen's exhaustion. “I don't think I've ever seen ones that refuse to die like this.”

“Only because we didn't blow up the one in time.” Elowayen muttered petulantly. “This is why I hate constructs. You never know what two-bit tinkerer has done _what,_ or _how,_ and they almost always go berserk and kill everything in sight.” the druid sighed and thumped her head against the wall behind her. “Then you have to figure out how to reverse it so you don't die in a puddle of blood and bones and organs.”

“Are you finished?” Nathyrra laughed.

Elowayen nodded, then sat forward and studied the drow. “Are you alright? Any injuries that need healing?”

“I am fine.” Nathyrra smiled. “You and Valen took most of the injuries. I don't know about your bard though.”

“Deeks?” Elowayen called out. “Are you all right?”

“Aokay, Boss!” the kobold replied. “Deekin's lute a little worn, but otherwise Deekin be okay.”

“Valen?” Elowayen turned her attention to the last of their party. “Do you have any injuries? We're safe for the time being, and I wouldn't mind healing you if you need it.”

The tiefling didn't seem to hear her; with a frown, Elowayen pushed herself to her feet and limped over to the seated warrior. She noticed that his armor had a bit of a reddish stain on his left shoulder-

 _Golems don't bleed_. She hobbled to his side faster and circled around until she could see his face. His jaw clenched tight, his left arm was held close to his chest. He didn't look up at her approach, which worried her more than the blood.

“Valen.” Elowayen spoke again, her voice soft as she reached out and lightly touched his shoulder. “Valen, can you hear me?”

With a snarl, he suddenly whipped around and crushed her hand in his grip. Elowayen cried out as she was dragged off her feet and pinned beneath the feral warrior; behind her, she could hear Nathyrra and Deekin shout in alarm. Her eyes widened as she heard the rush of arcane commands, spells designed to knock Valen away from her- and possibly kill him in the process.

“ _No!”_ she shouted. The whispers of magic halted and she breathed in relief; slowly she met Valen's gaze and held it as she issued her next command. “Stay where you are and don't interfere!”

Valen's eyes, normally a bright, piercing blue, were clouded and tinged with red. He snarled again, his teeth bared as he grimaced in pain. Elowayen shifted lightly underneath his weight; he snapped at her in response- and then she understood.

 _The injury must be making it harder for him to control himself. I need to heal him,_ _and I need him calm for that._ With a mental groan, Elowayen prepared herself for the uncomfortable task ahead. _He is like a wild animal gone mad with pain!_

“Valen, I'm not going to hurt you.” she spoke in a low, gentle voice as she remembered an early lesson- when approaching a animal wild with pain, speak soft and low. Valen merely growled in response, and she desperately cast about for an idea to prove that she meant no harm to him. The only way she could think of was to appeal to the bestial instincts of his demonic blood, and the only way to prove to a beast that you meant no threat was-

 _Oh gods above, I hope this isn't going to backfire_ , she prayed as she stared into his eyes. Slowly, carefully, she dropped her gaze away. She carefully tilted her head back at the same time to reveal the pale column of her throat to him-

 _And his impossibly sharp, strong demon teeth_ , she fretted internally.

-o-

He roared in triumph when her throat was fully revealed; it meant one of two things- death or submission. Her heart still beat, and he was pressed close enough to feel the thumps against his chest. It could only mean one thing.

She had finally submitted to him, and the demon was pleased.

-o-

He lunged. His teeth caught and bit down right above the vein. She could hear the others shout again, but she forced herself to remain calm- to panic would cause him to tear out her throat. She raised her free hand to show them she was all right, that they needed to stay where they were-

He growled and the vibrations rumbled through her body. Distracted, she gasped and he bit harder; she felt her skin break and her blood well. She felt him lap at the wound with his tongue, felt him shudder as he tasted her life's blood.

She forced herself to relax. To survive this, she _had_ to submit, completely and utterly. Points of his armor pierced through her leathers and skin; blood welled and pain threatened to break her concentration. With a deep breath, Elowayen focused only on being soft and limp. Valen bit her again in response, his actions rough as he licked away more of her blood.

She did not know how long they laid on the control room floor; the world had narrowed down to just the two of them, with Valen's weight pressing her into the stone and his lips and teeth rough on her throat. He radiated heat and the scent of leather and sun-warmed metal, with something underneath, an unfamiliar but intoxicating spice that made her want to rub herself against him like a cat in heat.

-o-

_Throughout her adventures, she had memorized the different scents of her companions as they traveled together, a trick she had learned from Shery that had saved her life on more than one occasion. She told Ayala about it one day while they were harvesting Elowayen's garden, and the ranger had laughed in response._

“ _It's natural for you to do so,” Ayala shook her head in amusement and sat on her haunches. She motioned for Elowayen to take a seat before she continued, “Nature walkers such as ourselves form packs when they travel, especially when they travel with others besides their animal companions. Animals identify their pack mates by scent and sight, correct?”_

“ _Well yes,” Elowayen nodded, her forehead creased in confusion. “So you're saying that when I memorize the scents of my companions, I'm simply being more of a druid?”_

_Ayala laughed outright, the sound ringing through the trees. “Not quite. You're just doing what's part of your nature, just as your panther hunts by moonlight or just as your dryad friends change colors with the seasons.”_

_Elowayen seated herself next to the blonde elf, a curious expression on her face. “I think I understand now.” she said slowly. “My teacher never spoke of this to me; I don't think he assumed I would willingly travel with others, or that it would ever be important.”_

“ _I do not know your Isendel personally, only by the stories you have told me.” Ayala gently touched the druid's shoulder. “I think he wanted you to learn for yourself, to understand the bonds that can form between friends and compatriots. You were extremely young, and extremely heartsick when you found him- perhaps he wanted you to heal before you had such a lesson.”_

“ _Perhaps.” Elowayen leaned against the trunk of the oak behind her, eyes closed and a smile on her face. “Perhaps he was just exercising his notably dry sense of humor. Master Isendel was an odd one, but a good elf all the same.”_

“ _An old elf, living by himself in the woods, gone odd in the head? You don't say!” Ayala teased._

_Elowayen laughed and swatted at the ranger. “Seeing your future, Ayala?”_

“ _Not as long as you allow me to visit.” The blonde replied seriously. “The Harpers are kind to me, Elowayen, and always have been, but I feel as those my time with them is coming to an end. After Drogan-”_

“ _It's alright,” Elowayen replied gently as the ranger halted. “You will always be welcome here, Ayala, no matter the season or the year. Shery informs me that we are kindred, you and I- even she recognizes you as pack.”_

“ _Oh really, now?” Ayala stood and dusted off her leggings. “Come on then, lazybones, and tell me more of how your housecat makes the decisions around here.”_

“ _She says she prefers your scent out of the last few packmates.” Elowayen shrugged. “Something about how the smell of sunshine and the woods is better than the smell of stone, horses, and wine.”_

“ _And what did she think of your... former paramour?” Ayala spoke carefully but her stance betrayed her; tense and waiting, like a wolf ready to spring at the first sign of weakness._

_Elowayen blinked at the shock of the question. “How did you-”_

“ _Know that you had one?” Ayala shook her head in disbelief. “I treated you at Drogan's when you first arrived, Elowayen. He had called me in as a favor to him, to make certain you had not forsaken your vows and gone mad from the loss of your powers. I knew as soon as I saw you that your vows were as strong as the day you made them, if not stronger, and that what ailed you was nothing that any of us could help you with. I never asked before, out of respect for you, but I feel that now is the time.”_

“ _Shery... tolerated him.” Elowayen admitted, her voice low. “She did not particularly care for him, but she did not outright hate him, either. She said his scent was overpowering, that it mixed with mine in unpleasant ways.”_

“ _What was that?” Ayala stopped pulling weeds and stared at the druid._

“ _She said it mixed with mine in unpleasant ways. He smelled of shadows and gold, and she said it was unpleasant when layered atop my scent.”_

“ _He didn't smell of spice?” Ayala's gaze intensified. “To you, or to her?”_

“ _No.” Elowayen admitted. “Why does that matter?”_

_Ayala turned back to the weeding. “When you meet a man who smells of spice, little one, you'll understand.”_

-o-

Pinned beneath a pain-maddened tiefling on the floor of a Underdark ruin, Elowayen finally understood.

Linu had smelled of flowers and moonlight, but Nathyrra smelled like dusky shadows and the sweet musk of poison. Sharwyn's scent was of wine and silk, with a hint of gold and bowstrings. Daelen smelled of sun-drenched grasses and leather, while Tomi stank of back alleys and secrets. Boddyknock was surprisingly similar to Master Drogan in the fact that they both smelled of old books and magic; Xanos, however, smelled of horses and wine, and Dorna was like wet stone and metal. Mischa was soap and metal polish, Deekin the earthy scent of kobolds mixed with the prickly scent of magic.

Valen, however, was _spice_. She hadn't a chance to scent him when he was fully out of his armor before, as he was always in the full plate or the leather under-padding. She was caught completely unawares by the _strength_ of his scent. It rolled over her in waves, inundating her senses until all she could think of was him.

 _Mate_.

It roared out of her subconscious, from the deep place where the Wild magic coiled and danced within her soul.

_Mate._

She gasped and the taste of spice filled her mouth. Above her, Valen growled and the air grew even heavier with his scent. His lips trailed across her throat, molten hot against her skin as he marked her over and over again.

_Mate._

With a noise more like a purr, he released her throat and leaned down to nuzzle at her face and hair. He rumbled something she couldn't understand-

 _Probably a demonic language,_ she thought. She felt him nudge against her jaw, felt his breath against her temple as his nose lightly traced the pointed tip of her ear. She inhaled, the sensation sending jolts straight to her stomach, then lower-

 _Now is not the time for that, Elowayen._ She scolded herself. _The time for seduction is_ not _when you have an angry wounded tiefling on top of you,_ she told herself sternly. “Valen-”

He growled softly in response. He pinned her even more securely underneath him, his eyes slightly less cloudy but still tinged with red.

She tried again. “ _Valen_. You're hurt.”

He ignored her and instead moved back to nuzzle at her throat. With an inner sigh, she allowed him to arrange her more comfortably against him, the points of his armor no longer pressed into her flesh. Grateful for the reprieve, Elowayen tilted her head back even further and was rewarded with another throaty growl of pleasure. When she reached up to touch his face, however, he hissed in displeasure and pinned her wrist against the stone. She even received a nip as punishment, and resigned herself to another long wait.

The plan had come to her while he marked her throat. It was dangerous, but she truly believed that she could safely guide him back from his madness. She just needed the right moment to do it, when his guard was lowered and she could act. She would wait until then, her only chance to do this right.

Slowly, she reached up again and lightly touched one of his horns. She gasped when he nipped at her wrist and made a noise halfway between a purr and a growl.

 _He's... playful._ The very idea of a playful, possessed tiefling was almost too much for her to take in. She bit back her giggles and instead watched as he began to follow the lines of her hand with his nose, fascinated as he nipped at her flesh wherever he chose. When she lowered her hand to his face, the purring growl in his throat deepened to thrum throughout his entire body.

Gently, she traced his horns from tip to base until her hand wound its way to his hair. She ran her fingers through the bright red locks and imitated his purr best she could. It was apparently enough, as he rubbed his face against her hand like a cat begging for attention. Her fingers scratched against his scalp, and he melted against her, his face relaxed and full of peace.

_Perfect._

“ _Sleep_ , Valen.” she murmured. Her fingers glowed with a soft white light as she ran her fingers through his hair one more time. “ _Sleep_ , and be well.”

The look he gave her as the spell took hold tugged at her heart; a look of sleepy contentment, a look she hadn't seen since Aarin-

She forced a smile to her face before Valen fell asleep- and sagged against her completely. “ _Oof._ ” she muttered as she tried to wiggle free. “You are far too heavy,” she tartly informed the sleeping tiefling, “Especially in this armor.”

“ _Boss_!”

Elowayen winced and shot Valen a worried look; thankfully he remained asleep, that same content look on his face.

“Shhh!” Nathyrra clamped her hand around the kobold's mouth. “You'll wake him and we don't need that!”

“Thank you, Nathyrra.” Elowayen whispered. She reached out her free hand to the drow, eyes still trained on Valen's face. “I'm in need of assistance, it appears- he's a bit heavy to move.”

“Oh, I'm sure.” Nathyrra's grin was positively sinful as she knelt next to the druid and caught her under her arms. “But at least now you can brag to the other females in Lith My'athar that _you_ have been under the General and _they_ have not.”

“ _Nathyrra._ ” Elowayen groaned as the drow began to pull her free, “You are positively wick- _eep_!”

Even in slumber, Valen moved like quicksilver. He caught hold of Elowayen's legs and held tight, his face twisted into a grimace before he snarled and buried his face in her lap. Elowayen went completely scarlet while Nathyrra stumbled away, hand clasped over her mouth to stifle the laughter threatening to escape. Choked giggles still managed to escape despite the drow's efforts, which only served to further anger the druid.

“This is _not_ funny.” Elowayen hissed angrily as she glared at the assassin.

“Oh, I assure you, it is.” The drow merely chuckled harder. “He's _nuzzling_ you.”

“Yes, I _know_ that, thank you!” The druid scowled harder as Valen pressed his face further into her lap; Deekin padded his way to her side before he plopped down, his book already open and quill ready.

“Deekin, you better not be doing what I think you're doing.” Elowayen warned as she struggled to sit upright.

“Doing whats Boss?” the kobold asked innocently. His quill moved in sure strokes across the paper, sketching out what Elowayen was certain would turn into something tawdry and more suited to a two-copper romance than an adventure novel.

“If this new book has illustrations, I'm killing you.” She hissed as she managed to sit up. Deekin merely gave her a toothy smile and she sighed. “I'm surrounded by fools.” she muttered.

Elowayen turned her attention back to the sleeping tiefling with a sigh. “At least you're more agreeable now.” she told him as she shifted

With gentle hands, she reached for his wounded arm. He snarled in his sleep again and she paused, unsure if her sleep spell still held. She was relieved when he merely grumbled something she couldn't quite understand and nuzzled against her once more.

Elowayen hummed under her breath as she began to work, an old fey song that she learned from a Dryad years ago. She stroked his head softly as she unbuckled his gauntlet, hands gentle and sure as she worked the metal free from his torn flesh. It wasn't until it came free with a wet sucking noise that she winced, concerned she had woken him- but he slept on, unaware of her care.

“Bless the gods,” she exhaled softly as she set the gauntlet to the side. “I don't relish you waking up in the middle of this, master tiefling.”

She barely paid attention as Deekin set down his book and scampered away with the ruined gauntlet, his magics a whisper in the still air of the golem's tomb. Distantly she registered that the kobold was probably using a Mend spell, but how and where he got such a spell was beyond her. Her focus now was Valen and his wounds.

 _He must have taken a direct hit from that minogon's ax to get it this mangled_ , she thought with another wince. _Wait... the last minogon we fought was directly behind me. He took this hit protecting_ me _._

“Oh Valen.” she murmured sadly. She stroked the side of his face as he slept. “You amazing, _stupid_ tiefling.” She looked up with a sigh and motioned to Nathyrra. “Can you get a healer's kit from my bag, please? I need it to clean his wound before I heal it.”

“Certainly.” Nathyrra moved quickly; Elowayen only had to wait a few seconds before the drow handed her the supplies. With quiet thanks, she began to clean the wound; bits of metal and stone had to be removed before she could begin to heal him. Lightly, she wrapped the wound in bandages, only stopping to soothe Valen with light touches and murmurs when he subconsciously hissed in pain.

“Easy, handsome, _easy_.” she whispered, her fingers entwined in his hair. She completely missed the look of malicious glee Nathyrra sent her way, so focused was she on the injured tiefling. Deekin didn't miss it, however, and shared a similar look with the drow.

Things were going to get interesting, and _very_ soon.

-o-

Valen awoke as a feeling of warmth washed through his arm. He groaned as he raised his head from his pillow, expecting to see his bedroom in Lith My'athar, the Seer seated on a chair as she tended his wounds-

Only to find he was lying on a hard, cold stone floor, still in his armor, with his head in Elowayen's lap as she hummed lightly under her breath, her hands bright with healing magic. Nathyrra and the kobold lay a few feet in front of him, curled up under their cloaks, asleep.

He jerked and tried to move, only to have Elowayen's hand lightly press against his shoulder. “Shh, don't move.” she whispered. “You're still rather injured; I had to put you under to work.”

“Put me... under?” his voice cracked; his throat was unnaturally dry. He felt Elowayen's weight shift as she reached into her pack to pull out a water skin.

“Here,” she passed it to him, her eyes dark as she returned to her work. “And yes, I did. A light sleeping spell, nothing serious or threatening. It normally doesn't work, but you... you weren't in your right mind.”

He took a few cautious sips to wet his lips and tongue before taking a deeper pull from the skin, aware of the hazards of drinking water too quickly. _She feels so very warm_ , he thought hazily, _warm and soft and comforting_. He sighed as he felt her magic course through his body, restoring it as only a healer could.

“I didn't harm anyone, did I?” he asked a short time later, drowsy from her heat and magic.

“Depends on who you ask.” she replied in a teasing tone. “You... slipped into a mindset that worried the others.”

“The others?” he lifted his head to frown at her, his expression worried. “What happened? What did I do to worry the others?”

She cleared her throat; he could have sworn that she blushed. “Well, you, ah... you lost control of the demon, best as I can guess.”

He closed his eyes as her words sunk in, pained by the realization that he lost control again. “I am... sorry, for that.”

“Don't be.” she smiled lightly as she patted his shoulder gently. “I... recognized it. We managed to prevent any bloodshed between us.”

“How?” he demanded. He tore away from her, armor clanking as he forced himself to his feet. The noise woke Nathyrra and the kobold; he vaguely noted them leaping up with weapons at the ready. Valen ignored them both and crouched facing Elowayen, his face desperate. “How did you manage it?”

“Give me your arm, you big oaf, and I'll tell you.” She replied, her voice annoyed. She held out her hands expectantly, foot tapping on the ground as she waited. Somewhat sheepish, he extended his bandaged arm back towards her. “That's going to be another healing spell.” she muttered crossly under her breath. “Go back to sleep, you two, he's fine.” she ordered the others. “Grouchy, but fine.”

“My lady?” Valen prompted, his eyes still searching her face. “How did you manage my infernal blood?”

“She let you bite her.” Nathyrra's voice was blunt.

“What?” Valen gaped at the druid as she colored a bright red and glared at the drow.

“I thought we agreed I would tell him.” she hissed angrily.

“We dids, but you puts it too nice, Boss.” Deekin informed her. “Goat-Man need to know just what he did to Boss.”

“What I-” Valen closed his eyes, ashamed. “What did I do to you?”

“Nathyrra, Deekin, other side of the room, _now._ ” Elowayen's tone brooked no argument, although both drow and kobold made faces at her command. She waited, watching coldly, until they settled themselves as far away from Valen and Elowayen as possible. Only then did she turn to him, her gaze soft. “I did what any animal to would do to another in such a situation, and I do not blame you.”

“You did _what_?” His expression must have been priceless, as she started to giggle and shook her head at him in amusement.

“You misunderstand, Valen,” she sighed when her giggles subsided. “You were injured, severely, by that minogon, and don't think I don't know just how and where you got that injury either.” she scolded him.

He flushed lightly at her rebuke; she continued as if she hadn't noticed. “You had gone into a state that I've seen wild animals experience- the pain made it hard for them to express anything but the most base emotions. Yours were pain, and rage.”

“My lady, I-” Valen tried to pull away, but she gripped his arm tightly and shot him a look.

“I'm not finished.” she snapped, lessening her hold to continue healing. “You grabbed me when I approached you and pinned me beneath you. I couldn't move, you wouldn't respond to my voice, Nathyrra and Deeks were ready to blast you with spells- so I did the only thing I could think of to prove I wasn't a threat.”

He felt a blush starting at the base of his neck. “What did you do?”

She hesitated, shyly meeting his gaze with her own. “I... showed you my throat.”

“You _what_?” He was stunned. No one in all the Hells had ever done something so stupid, so dangerous- so damned _trusting._ This delicate she-elf dared to do something that not even _demons_ were brave enough to try, and all so he wouldn’t get hurt?

“I showed you my throat in submission.” She repeated, ignoring his shocked expression. “You, ah, accepted. Vigorously.” she added and smiled softly at him. “Nathyrra and Deekin nearly shot you again when you did that.”

“I could have _killed_ you.” he hissed in disbelief. To think that she would be so foolish as to bare her throat to a tanar'ri- that she would have such faith in _him_.

“And _they_ would have killed _you_.” she hissed back, her eyes bright with anger. “I wasn't about to let either thing happen, and it seemed better to offer my throat than let you get blasted. Besides, you didn't actually do anything other than bite me.”

He didn't believe her; the blush that seemed to be permanently attached to her face now probably had something to do with that.

“Oh really?” he asked dryly, motioning towards her face. “Your maidenly blush tells another story, my lady.”

“You, ah, may have, ah, nuzzled me.” she whispered. She dipped her head to study his arm with great intent, as if to avoid his expression.

“ _Nuzzled_ you?” He repeated, the blush creeping up his neck to his face.

“Yes. And possibly, um, nipped my hand. A few times.” Elowayen blinked, focusing harder on his arm. “You're almost ready now!”

“Th-thank you,” he closed his eyes. He fought the urge to fidget, fought the desire to put as much distance between the two of them as possible she finished healing his wound. “Did I- do anything... inappropriate?”

“You, ah, may have purred. A little.” She bit her lip, the tips her ears pink from embarrassment.

“What she's not telling you is that you purred yourself on _top_ of her, and when she hit you with the sleep spell you almost flattened her.” Nathyrra called across the room.

“Or that yous not lets Boss go, either.” Deekin chimed in gleefully. “Drow lady had to pull her out from underneath yous, and thens yous wouldn't let Boss's legs go.”

“So true, Master Bard, so true!” Nathyrra laughed and patted him on the head. “You were draped over her so strongly we couldn't even pry your arm free to heal it! She had to pet your-”

“That's enough!” Elowayen chirped brightly, hastily dropping his arm. “There, all better. No more minogons for a while, got it? Good!”

She leaped to her feet, only to sway dizzily in place. “Oh... I think I overdid it.” she muttered as she clutched at her head. “Oh-”

“You probably did, my lady.” Valen had scrambled to his feet with her, and now stepped forward when Elowayen staggered and almost fell. “You need rest. When did you last-”

“On the boat here.” Nathyrra remarked as she moved towards the pair. “She refused to let your arm go untreated, even after wearing herself down with the golems.”

“They're destroyed now, though.” Elowayen muttered defensively. “We got the fixer one. Once they go down, they stay down. And his arm-”

“Is that of a warrior's. I would have survived once asleep. Nathyrra's right, you should have rested.” Valen chastised. “What would we do if you fell here?”

“Find a new savior?” Elowayen smiled crookedly at him. “I hear they're a gold a gaggle Above. Or is that geese?” she mumbled and blinked in confusion.

“I would not know.” he remarked. He gently grasped her elbow and guided her back down to the floor. “Nathyrra, could you-”

“Bedroll? On it.” The drow nodded and quickly divested Elowayen of her pack; the druid's protests fell on deaf ears as her companions worked to make her rest more comfortable.

“Boss needs potion now?” Deekin stood at her side and watched her with worried eyes. “Deekin has good potions.”

“I'm sure you do, Deeks.” Elowayen murmured tiredly. “But no potions. They're just too-”

“Inappropriate for her affliction.” Valen cut in. “You need to rest, my lady.”

Elowayen muttered something in Elvish, only to have Deekin gasp and turn to her in admonishment. “Boss! You no curse like thats!”

“Why did I ever teach you that?” Elowayen grumbled at the kobold; she rolled her shoulders back before nodding at the bedroll. “I think a nap would do me wonders, though.”

“Indeed it would, my friend.” Nathyrra lightly touched her shoulder. “Your bed is ready; would you prefer me or the kobold?”

“I should be alright.” Elowayen shook her head. “I've got to get over this dependency sometime, right?”

“As long as it not be Goat-Man. Goat-Man slept with Boss once today.” Deekin grumbled.

Both Elowayen and Valen colored at the announcement. Nathyrra cackled and gave both of them a mischievous look. “Oh, I don't know Master Bard, perhaps since he was injured earlier he should rest as well.”

Deekin considered her words carefully. Elowayen could almost see the thoughts swirl through his head and she groaned inwardly- she knew that look.

“Deekin thinks drow lady be right! Boss and Goat-Man sleeps together again!”

Elowayen flushed and turned to see Valen was blushing just as heavily as she was, if not harder due to the kobold's innocent, but completely misspoken phrasing.

 _I'm doomed, she thought_ , catching his bright blue gaze. _Completely and utterly doomed._

-o-

“And has there been no-one else since?” She asked him, leaning next to him against the wall in Ferron's camp. Her head rested on the stones near his shoulder, her braid tossed over one shoulder.

Valen shook his head, a soft smile on his lips as he remembered his former love. “No, there has been no-one else since.”

He caught Nathyrra's gaze from across the hallway then; the drow merely smirked at him before she shook her head at him.

 _Liar_ , she mouthed, her eyes shining in the light, _you_ _utter liar_.

It disturbed him to think about it, but later that evening, as they rested on Cavallas's boat, he realized that she was right.


	4. Chapter 4

“So we’re facing an archdevil on top of a power-hungry drow sorceress who would love nothing more than to see all four of us dead, possibly in quick succession of each other?” Elowayen inquired, her voice dry as she propped herself against the cracked wall.

“There's five of us now, my friend, do not forget!” Lavoera piped up cheerfully, her wings still slightly bloodstained. 

“My apologies, Lavoera,” Elowayen smiled at the deva's enthusiasm. “It's still not a pleasant outlook, however.”

“Hmm, true,” the deva said thoughtfully. “Oh, what was it that my master used to do- oh!” She whirled around and nearly toppled over as her wings smashed into a broken pillar. “Here, hold this!” she instructed Valen, and thrust her mace into his hands before flinging herself to the ground in an exaggerated pose. “My master used to think like this all the time, he said it helped him bunches!” she chirped brightly.

“Deekin must try that next time.” the kobold declared from his spot next to Elowayen. “Whats you thinks Boss?” 

“I think I'd like to hear what Valen has to say about my analysis of the situation first!” she laughed as she wiped at the sweat on her brow.

“I wouldn’t put it quite that way, but yes.” Valen nodded as he shifted the deva’s mace in his grip. “We mentioned the arch-devil before, at least I was under the impression that the Seer did when you first arrived here.” The weapon was extremely unfamiliar to him, unfamiliar and so damned _small_ that he worried he would break the handle just by holding it.

“Nice glow.” Nathyrra smirked from her seat atop Sodalis’s coffin. “Almost pretty, isn’t it Master Bard?”

“Goat-Man’s weapon very pretty.” Deekin agreed. “Almost as pretty as Boss.”

“You four have the worst way of cheering a girl up, you know that?” Elowayen shook her head, a crookedly smile on her face as she leaned her head against the wall. “First vampire monks- _monks_ , of all things- and now _this_. It’s enough to make me wonder why I left Hilltop again.”

“Cause Boss missed traveling.” Deekin piped up. The kobold had dramatically collapsed into Elowayen’s lap after the battle with Sodalis, claiming exhaustion from breathing too much fire. Both Elowayen and Nathyrra outrageously praised his efforts, causing the little reptile to preen as he subjected himself to Elowayen’s careful ministrations. 

Valen told himself that he was _not_ jealous of the kobold. Even when Deekin stretched out and gave Elowayen a big, glistening-eyed pout and she responded with a laugh and a kiss to the creature's snout, he reinforced that he was not jealous of an overgrown lizard.

Nathyrra, of course, had noticed the whole thing and had her hand pressed against her mouth to stifle what sounded suspiciously like laughter.

“I did miss traveling.” Elowayen admitted, her voice a welcome break from thoughts of how to murder the drow without angering the Seer. She settled more comfortably against the wall, Deekin's head still in her lap. “I missed a lot of things, but that’s not why I left Hilltop.”

“Why did you leave, Elowayen?” Nathyrra swung her legs up to settle into a tailor’s sit, eyes curious and glowing in the dim light. “You never really told us.”

The druid closed her eyes, soaking in the warmth offered by the musty stone and raging lava nearby. “I guess... it was because I just couldn’t stay.” she admitted after a small pause. “Master Drogan was more than a mentor, he was like a father to me. To all of us there.” She paused again, as if searching for the right words.

Valen felt himself shift slightly to better hear Elowayen's story; he had mentioned bits of his past to her before, but she rarely spoke of hers. He found himself wanting to know more of her history, of her childhood and adventures before arriving in the Underdark. While he could have easily asked the bard, he found himself craving the words from her lips instead- and he wasn't the only one, it seemed.

Nathyrra acted disinterested, but he noted the subtle shifts in her movements as Elowayen spoke, while on the floor, Lavoera abandoned her ridiculous pose and now listened intently. Her silvery eyes gleamed as she leaned forward to catch the elf's words, wings finally stilled as the deva became caught up in Elowayen's tale.

“He sacrificed himself to save us, you see,” Elowayen spoke quietly, as if she were divulging a secret. “To save Dorna and Deekin and I. He triggered Heurodis's trap, you see, and had to get us out before the ruin collapsed.”

-o-

_His staff held high, his face contorted with the effort of keeping the portal open, Drogan protected Elowayen, Dorna and Deekin from the magical energies the medusa had triggered. He shouted over the roar of magic that filled the room, his voice almost lost in the din as the spell twisted around them._

“ _Get going, girls! I can’t hold out much longer!”_

“ _We won’t leave you!” Dorna yelled back, her own spell shield weakening under the onslaught of energies._

“ _Master, there must be another way!” Elowayen begged frantically. She darted to the side and narrowly avoided a stray energy blast that singed the air around her. “You can’t-“_

“ _Can, and will, you foolish child.” Drogan growled, his eyes flashing. “I’ve lived long enough, Elowayen, and trained many fine students, but you four were my best. My best... and my favorites. I’m proud of you, Elowayen, Dorna; I want you to tell the others that I’m proud of them as well.”_

“ _Master-“ Dorna pleaded. Her shield dropped, her energies spent as she moved forward to grasp at Drogan's sleeve._

“ _Please!” Drogan stepped away, his eyes grim as he avoided Dorna's outreached hand. “Go! Elowayen, get her out of here! Get her to safety!”_

“ _Master Drogan, I can’t-“ Elowayen shook her head. “I won’t leave you here to die! We can't lose you!”_

“ _You three are the only ones who can stop her, Elowayen.” Drogan’s eyes shone with pride, and acceptance of his fate. “I know the world is safe in your hands. Now go. Go, and live, and fight, and make things right again.”_

_Elowayen swallowed past the lump in her throat, nodding as she grasped Dorna’s shoulder. “Come, Dorna.”_

“ _Elowayen...” the dwarf stared at her in shock, unwilling to believe that her companion would leave Drogan there alone. “We can’t-“_

“ _He’s right.” Elowayen cut her off with a shake of her head. “Please, Dorna- I need you. We_ all _need you.”_

“ _Go without me.” Dorna’s eyes shone furiously; as Elowayen watched, the rogue scrubbed at her face with a rough hand, avoiding her gaze. “I said go!”_

“Dorna _.”_

_Her head snapping up at the sound of her name, Dorna stared at Drogan with wide eyes. “Master-“_

_Drogan cut her off with a shake of his head, smiling. “Nay, girl. My time has come and gone. Yours is just beginning. Go with Elowayen- you know how she is about her health.”_

_Dorna bowed her head, mumbling something in Dwarven. Drogan responded in kind, his expression affectionate. Finally, Dorna nodded, wiping at her eyes one last time. Fixing Elowayen with a look, she jerked her head towards the portal._

“ _You coming, elf? The kobold's already through.”_

-o-

Elowayen cleared her throat, eyes wet with unshed tears. “Master Drogan’s sacrifice was hard to take at the time, but once everything was over, and Dorna and I returned to Hilltop, we realized that he had imparted his final lesson. He taught us that in the end, our fates are our own to control. He could have saved himself, at the cost of our lives. He could have survived, could have taught more students and lived out the rest of his days in relative peace-”

“But he didn't!” Lavoera interrupted cheerfully. “Cause you're still here!”

“I'm still here,” Elowayen agreed, a bittersweet smile on her face. “And because I'm still here, I was able to see that my fate was my own. That while everyone expected me to live a life in Hilltop, to take a husband and settle down once and for all... I still had things to do. I could feel it in my soul, the tug of something, something that hadn’t happened yet. I stayed at Hilltop for a while, and I tried... I tried so hard to ignore the call of the road, but...”

“But you couldn’t.” Valen nodded softly. Throughout her tale he moved closer, ignoring Nathyrra's knowing look until he was able to seat himself next to Elowayen. His armor clanked and rattled as he shifted to find a better position and tried to avoid stabbing her with a spine while he was at it.

“I wouldn’t.” she corrected gently, giving him a sideways look until he settled. “I knew I still had something to do, and I sought to find out what. I wound up traveling to the Far Forest and making my home there, in a small grove surrounded by Dryads. Once I had gotten settled there, an old friend of Drogan's appeared. Occasionally she would stop by with word of troubles plaguing one town or another, and if it were close enough I'd journey by to offer aid. Of course, things were made easier all thanks to Deek’s book-“

“Boss loved the book.” The kobold murmured sleepily. Elowayen giggled and continued to stroke the ridge of spines on the back of his head.

“I loved the book, and the people who loved the book loved me,” she said, patting the kobold’s scaled head. “And they made it easy for me to travel and find work while I searched for just what I still had to do.”

“And now?” Valen couldn’t help but ask her; his heart thudded in his chest as he watched her, all green and brown and pale in the torchlight, soft and delicate and so painfully _real_ -

“And now what?” Elowayen replied, turning her head to look at him, confusion written on her features.

“And do you still feel like you have something to do, something pulling on your soul?”

“Besides the geas, you mean?” She asked wryly, a hint of a smile playing around her lips.

“Besides the geas.” he acknowledged, dipping his head in assent.

“I don’t know, honestly.” Elowayen answered slowly, her eyes soft as she searched his face. “I would like to think that saving the world three times counts as fulfilling my quota, but who can tell what the gods have in store for us... besides the Seer, of course.” she teased, in an attempt to lighten the mood.

He chuckled with her, watching how the torchlight flickered on her tired face. They had been going for so long, too paranoid to truly rest; Elowayen had used almost all her high-level spells as soon as they had opened the door to the first quarter of the dungeon, a failed attempt to clear the monks away from Valen as he tore into their ranks. Almost all of her efforts had been in vain as the monks dodged her magic, going straight at him with shining fists and snapping teeth. He met the first of the rush with the heads of his flail, turning and smashing the end of the handle into the chest of another.

-o-

_He could feel the scorch of her flame whip as it shot past his head and wrapped around the throat of a monk trying to attack from behind. She pulled the creature forward, right onto Nathyrra’s twin blades, before she spun around and summoned an Fire Elemental to provide cover for Deekin. Once the bard was protected, she darted forward to join him, her recently-acquired halberd glowing a malicious red as she parried a monk’s blows._

_She took a hit in her shoulder, a painful reminder of her sorry lack of defense, before she broke away to dart into an alcove with two of the creatures behind her. He heard her cry out in pain; his demon roared, calling forth the rage and battle lust, the desire to destroy, to kill, to_ defend _-_

_A blast of fire burst out of the doors, the shrieks of the creatures almost drowning out Elowayen’s chanting as she tumbled out, her hands still glowing white as she cast another spell behind her._

“ _Gods-damned vampires!” she spat, spinning around and raising her halberd to block another punch. “Stay dead!”_

-o-

“You should rest.” he stated abruptly. “You’ve been going for too long-“

“I’m fine, Valen.” She shook her head angrily, her eyes flashing. “I won’t be coddled-“

“You used almost all your spells, Elowayen. Don’t think we haven’t noticed how tired you are.” Valen pointed to the kobold. “Besides, we would have to wake your bard, and I know how concerned you are over him.”

Elowayen huffed at him indignantly. “I am not tired.”

“Of course not,” Valen agreed blandly, his face neutral. “You would be-”

“I'm tired!” Lavoera interrupted again, still somewhat cheerful. “I think it's from all the blood loss, ha!”

“Merely taking advantage of the situation,” he continued, ignoring the deva. “The situation which we could all use to fortify ourselves before we go to battle the master of this... dungeon.”

“I hate your logic sometimes.” Elowayen grumbled good-naturedly. She pouted adorably at him, her pursed lips belied by the sparkle of amusement in her gaze.

He chuckled at her antics, amazed that he was not annoyed by the ridiculousness of it all. “As did the drow, and it kept them alive.” He climbed to his feet before dropping the mace in Lavoera's lap. Ignoring her yelp, he turned to face Elowayen. “I will go keep watch.”

“I'm really not all that tired, Valen.” Elowayen muttered. She glanced at him from under her lashes, her eyes no longer filled with mirth. “I’m perfectly able to keep watch myself, you know. Deekin and the others need it more than I do, and you need rest too, you know.”

“She's right, you do need rest!” the deva piped up. Valen gritted his teeth in annoyance- why Elowayen had invited the fluff-brain along, he had no idea, but she was wearing on his patience quickly.

Elowayen seemed to sense his annoyance. “Lavoera, go to sleep.” the druid ordered somewhat curtly. “You and the others can recover, and Valen and I will keep watch.”

“Speak for yourself, Elowayen.” Nathyrra laughed as she slid off the sarcophagus. Landing lightly on her feet, she dusted off her hands with a grin. “I’ll take watch, Valen. You stay here and make sure she actually rests.”

“ _Nathyrra_!” Elowayen snarled at the drow, who cheerfully waved before she skipped off to guard the door. “One of these days I’m going to kill her for her humor.”

“Is that what you call it?” Valen smirked at the elf’s discomfort. “I always assumed it was a drow trait, but perhaps it truly is Nathyrra.”

“It’s possible, but even the more tawdry comments I’ve heard pale in comparison to her when she’s in a mood.” Elowayen shook her head in disbelief. She shifted Deekin to the left in an attempt to find a more comfortable position, only to gasp in pain a second later. “ _Ow_! Deekin, you little dragon-brain, wake up!”

“Hu- Boss?” The kobold scrabbled back, eyes hazy with sleep and confusion. “Boss, what-“

“Your damn lute snapped a string.” Elowayen wrapped a hand around her bleeding arm. “I think it cut through my leathers- what do you string that blasted thing with, harpy's hair?”

“Oooh, Deekin sorry, Boss!” the little bard wailed and threw himself at her legs. Valen felt the beginning of a headache as the kobold continued to cry. “Deekin saw string was weakening but didn’t fix its- this is all Deekin’s fault!”

“Well, yes, it is, but you can fix it.” Elowayen nudged him with a booted foot, gently catching his attention before she pushed him away. “Go restring that thing, and I’ll wrap up my arm, okay?”

“Okays boss.” Deekin sniffed, eyes watery with tears. “I can heals you-“

“No, Deek, save your magic for later.” Elowayen jerked her head towards Valen. “He can help me with my arm; apparently he’s quite the healer.”

Valen jerked in surprise; he had never mentioned his healing abilities to her before, which meant that the only one who knew and could tell-

“ _Nathyrra_.” he turned to face the drow with a growl; to his annoyance, she cheerfully waved a dagger in his direction and _grinned._

He swore in response.

“Ifs that’s the case, why does Boss always heals Goat-Man insteads of Goat-Man healing Boss?”

“Because I am better at killing that curing, kobold.” Valen growled in annoyance at the ever-present nickname. “My lady, I-“

“Valen, you will help me with my arm. Deekin, you will restring your lute. Nathyrra, stop listening to this and guard the thrice-damned door!” Elowayen snapped, her eyes flashing. “Lavoera- is still asleep, thank the Treefather.”

“She's wearing on you too, isn't she?” Valen smirked again, only to have Elowayen whirl on him with annoyance clear in her features.

“You are _not_ helping.” she hissed. “You all will do as you're told, understood?”

“Yes Boss.” Deekin slouched away to rifle through his pack, full of sniffles and sad, longing looks towards Elowayen; the druid ignored him and instead motioned Valen towards her pack with a grimace. 

“There should be a kit in the top bag, could you-“

“Certainly, my lady.” Valen moved to kneel behind her, locating the kit with little difficulty. “What now?”

“Now?” Elowayen shot him a twisted grin over her shoulder. “Help me get my chest piece and gloves off. You need to get at my arm and my armor is just in the way.”

-o-

Nathyrra watched, silently, as Valen awkwardly fumbled with the buckles of Elowayen’s leathers. She listened as he murmured apologies when his fingers slipped, or when he would jostle her arm. Gradually Elowayen's armor lay by her side, and her shirt was pooled around her waist. Wearing only a band around her breasts, the druid seemed perfectly at peace as Valen struggled to keep his eyes on her injury.

It was cruel to tease the tiefling so, but at the same time Nathyrra couldn't fault the surfacer. Valen was often implacable and stoic; to see him flustered was a rare treat, one the assassin intended to enjoy for as long as she could. Valen, for his part, was flushed a brilliant scarlet, his hands gentle and only slightly trembling as he touched Elowayen's arm.

The drow had to admit, the whole charade had been amusing to watch; the way the kobold’s claw so easily and delicately sliced through a string on his beloved lute at just the right spot, the way Elowayen yelped and shoved him away without appearing like the whole thing had been planned out beforehand by the conspirators. Really, the only thing to make it more entertaining would be if Lavoera awoke and started blathering on and on again. Nathyrra grinned wickedly, amused by the idea of the deva awaking to the sight of a half-naked and bleeding Elowayen and blushing Valen. 

The bitter scent of medicinal herbs wafted through the air. Valen had applied a cleanser to the wound, causing Elowayen to hiss and flinch in his grip. Valen gave her a wry look in return, admonishment in his gaze. The druid flushed and Nathyrra bit back a giggle; they were just so _adorable!_

Especially right now. Elowayen watched Valen with gentle eyes and a small smile, fascinated by something only she could see. “Tell me about how you escaped Grimash’t.” Elowayen whispered as he blotted at the cut with a clean rag. 

The tiefling stiffened in surprise before he dipped his head in acquiescence. “Very well,” he replied, his voice low. He picked up a small jar of salve and began his tale, Elowayen’s gaze intense and focused only on him.

Nathyrra carefully cataloged the expressions she saw between them; curiosity on Elowayen’s face, the blush on Valen’s cheeks as he mumbled something too low for her to catch. The laughter in Elowayen’s eyes as she teased him, the surprise in Valen’s as he laughed and teased her back. Delight on Elowayen’s face at Valen’s laugh- even Nathyrra had to admit it was a good laugh- and the wonder at his tale of finding the Seer.

“No wonder you care for her so much.” She smiled at him softly as he neatly tied the ends of her bandage. “Thank you, Valen, for sharing your past with me.”

He cleared his throat, embarrassed. “It was nothing, my lady.”

“Mmm, it was,” she said. She reached up and touched his face with her fingertips, her expression awed. “I mean it. Thank you.”

Nathyrra expected Valen to stiffen, to tear away from Elowayen and stammer apologies and excuses. He did neither; instead, he reached up and lightly touched Elowayen’s fingertips with his own, his eyes closed as he murmured something too low to hear.

Elowayen blushed and ducked her head, and Valen’s eyes softened as she pinked.

Looking up, the drow noticed the kobold seemed quite pleased with something as well, and now lightly strummed his lute as he watched his Boss smile at the tiefling.

 _Co-conspirators, indeed,_ the assassin thought with a smirk. _Perhaps they will not need much help after all._

-o-

“What in all the hells did we do to deserve this?” Elowayen panted. The druid barely managed to stand, her leather armor torn and bloody from a swipe of Vix’thra’s claws. Somehow she was able to support Nathyrra as the drow sagged against her, semi-conscious from a blow to the head. “A _draco-lich_? As if the demi-lich wasn’t enough!”

“I agree.” Valen’s voice was hoarse from shouting as he shook his head. He stood near the entrance to the cave, his armor dented and scratched, with Deekin's unconscious form held in his arms. “It is hard to believe that we had so many undead within such close distance of Lith My’athar. I will have to speak to Imloth about our scouts and their patterns, as they are obviously lacking.”

“Don’t be too hard on them,” the druid began, “It's not their faul- easy, Nathyrra!” Elowayen gasped as the assassin suddenly jerked in alarm. _“Easy!_ It’s just me.”

“ _Elowayen_?” the drow blearily lifted her head, her expression slack. “Where-“

“We’re leaving.” Elowayen informed her harshly. She forced Nathyrra to lean more securely against her side before she continued. “You’re bleeding and Deekin’s unconscious-“

“You’re bleeding too, _rivvil_ ,” Nathyrra noted dryly. “If our blood mixes, that makes us sisters-sworn. Did you know that?”

“Uh, no, actually.” Elowayen blinked, bemused by the drow's sudden proclamation. “I would assume vows had to be spoken before that. I tend to stay away from knowledge of blood rites anyway, nasty things they are. Nathyrra, are you-“

“We need to take what we can from the horde.” Nathyrra shook her head determinedly, eyes burning furiously in the light. Elowayen feared that Nathyrra had contracted a sort of fever from the dragon's claws. Her fears were confirmed when Nathyrra tried to motion towards the shadows in the back of the cave and nearly sent both of them to the floor. “It's there, in the shadows. Once we gather what we can, then we can go.”

“Nathyrra, we just faced several golems and a resurrecting dragon. A _dragon._ Made of _bone_. I don’t think we can handle all that gold right now.”

“We could have if you didn't send Lavoera to Lith My'athar.” Nathyrra told her stubbornly. “And the gold is not for us, it would be for the rebels back at camp. We are running desperately low on supplies; you heard the Seer and Imloth last time we were there! Leave the kobold with me here, and take Valen.”

“Nathyrra-“

“ _Elowayen_.” Nathyrra’s eyes were hazy and unfocused, but her grip was anything but. She dug her fingers into Elowayen’s arm, her nails piercing into flesh that had been revealed by the dragon's claws. Elowayen yelped in pain and tried to shake her free; Nathyrra merely tightened her hold on the druid's arm. “ We _need_ that horde _._ ”

“You’re a bleeding, bloody fool, Nathyrra.” Elowayen muttered. She turned and forced Nathyrra towards a wall, both limping and using the other for support. “Sit, and don’t move. Valen, give me Deekin. I’ll heal these two while you go and gather all we can carry from the horde.”

“My lady, we should not-“ he began, but she shushed him and pointed to where she wanted him to lay the kobold. Warily, he deposited the bard on the stone, watching as she balled Deekin’s cloak to stuff under his head.

“I know what you're about to say,” she called over her shoulder, “and as it is, I agree. Nathyrra, however, does not- what's more, she's been poisoned. I need time to clear out whatever that thrice-damned beast infected her with before we can move, and I have no idea how much time this will take. Go and gather the horde, and we'll divide it equally amongst ourselves when it's time to leave. I think I can use Volkarion to get rid of most of the worthless items, but the rest will be going back with us.”

“I shouldn't leave you unprotected,” he argued, glaring down at her. “This isn't safe-”

“Consider it a present for the Seer.” Elowayen gave him a tired smile as she knelt next to the drow, potions and healer kits already assembled next to her patients in neat little groups . “Besides, I think I know how to get us out of here without too much effort.”

“How’s that?” Valen questioned. He crouched next to her, his expression a mixture of concern and exhaustion. “We are all weary, true, but I think we can make it out of the temple.”

“Even carrying a dragon’s weight in gold?” She chuckled and shook her head. “No, I think not. Besides, I would rather avoid the little gnome again. One round of his metaphors was enough for me.”

“Mintleaf and asparagus does sound rather... atrocious.” Valen agreed. He watched as Elowayen brushed her hair behind her ears before setting to work on Nathyrra’s wounds, only to have the strands slip back into her eyes. She cursed under her breath and shook it back, muttering about cutting it all off-

 _No_. Valen’s eyes widened slightly as he imagined her without the long brown curls, loose and wild down her back-

He leaned forward and gently gathered her tresses from her face, wincing as his gauntlets caught a few hairs in a crease. “My apologies.” He murmured, his voice still rough from battle.

“Apologies accepted.” Elowayen murmured back. She paused in her administrations to Nathyrra’s injuries as he removed his gauntlets. She only began again when his fingers deftly separated and wove the strands into another braid. “Nathyrra, this might hurt.” she warned the drow.

“Do what you must, Elowayen.” Nathyrra closed her eyes, smiling. “I trust you.”

Taking a deep breath, Elowayen prayed she was going to do this right. She was no cleric, as Dorna often told her with a grin; she could heal fairly serious and critical wounds rather well, but she had never attempted something so heavy and extensive and _rushed_ before. With a whispered prayer to the Earthmother under her breath, Elowayen _focused._ Bright blue-white energy formed between her hands, the magic almost singing as she faced her injured companions. She raised one hand to Nathyrra, palm flat against the drow’s chest while the other lightly grazed Deekin’s temple. “ _Heal_.” 

-o-

“ _How_ much?” Elowayen stared at him in amazement, her mouth open as he smugly displayed the dragon’s horde.

 _I am not being dramatic_ , he told himself as Elowayen gasped and scrambled to her feet. _I am merely... showing off the results of our labors._

“Well done, Valen!” Nathyrra cheered tiredly; even though she had benefited from the healing, she was still rather ragged and worn. The kobold wasn’t much better off, but he was at least awake and purring as Nathyrra stroked his head.

“Thousands, and all for Lith My’athar and the rebels. We can buy supplies with this, once the war is over.” Valen grinned, his eyes burning bright with pride. “We can survive!”

“Anything we can use now? Stamina potions, maybe, or potions for speed?” Elowayen stumbled her way over to him, her legs numb from kneeling in one position for so long. “Any healing kits?”

“No, my lady. It is all gold and gems, with a few weapons none of us can use.”

“Typical,” she cursed, lips thinned in displeasure. “Well, let's pack everything. If you need help carrying things, I’ve got a few magic bags that still have some space. We’ll take it all back with us- I'm sure there's someone who can use these things.”

“Boooooooss. Are we going up the rope again? Deekin doesn’t like the rope.” the kobold whined from Nathyrra's lap. “Can’t Boss carry Deekin instead?” he asked hopefully, eyes shining.

“Sorry Deeks, no carrying.” Elowayen snickered. She leaned down and tweaked his snout with her fingers. “We will, however, be gating out of here.”

“Oooh, with the Reaper Relic?” Deekin clapped his hands together and wriggled in place, his snout twisted into a grin. “Deekin hasn’t seen Reaper Ghost in ages!”

Elowayen nodded as she handed Valen one of her bags. “Exactly right, Deeks. And then back to Lith My’athar to have the Seer and her clerics look us over before coming back here. No sense in running back into the caverns when we can easily ‘port back.”

“Boss doesn’t like teleports though.” Deekin sounded suspicious. “Boss hates teleports.”

“Well, Boss also hates running through dark, wet caves filled with harpies and umber hulks when she still has to fight beholders and illithids.” Elowayen replied, crinkling her nose at the bard. “Besides, we can use it to drop off the supplies for the rebels and get checked over by the clerics. I'm not turning down a full healing.”

“Didn't you heal us completely, Elowayen?” Nathyrra queried, a brow cocked at the druid's admission. “I feel relatively healthy and fit now, but I can imagine you are tired after that.”

“I am tired,” Elowayen admitted. She rubbed the back of her head sheepishly, eyes peeking from under her lashes. “And my armor needs repairing-”

“Replacement is more like it, my friend.” Nathyrra laughed, shaking her head in disbelief. “I know you're attached to your Greenleaf, but you've been attacked by a draco-lich. A bone dragon, as you pointed out so eloquently. It's a lost cause to save it.”

“But I liked this armor.” Elowayen said mournfully. “I've had it with me since-”

“Undermountain, Boss.” Deekin chimed in helpfully. “Boss had other armor stolen by drow and nots gets it back.”

Elowayen wilted at the kobold's statement. “Yes, thank you for the reminder, Deekin. I also lost several weapons, amulets, rings, and some bloody good potions too.” she muttered. “Gods-damned scavengers.”

“Perhaps a hot bath will improve your temperament,” Nathyrra suggested innocently, delighting in the blush her statement caused both the druid and the warrior. “Or perhaps only make it worse?” she added wickedly, snickering at the glares both sent her way.

“That's it, you're carrying the scythe.” Elowayen announced, a malicious gleam in her eyes. “And the dragon armor.”

“ _Dragon armor, Boss?!_ ”

Elowayen merely grinned as Valen handed over the weapon with a straight face, dropping the heavy plate at Nathyrra's feet with a loud clang. “Tick tock, Nathyrra.”

-o-

“What is this place?” Nathyrra's hushed whisper carried to the far reaches of the Reaper's Sanctuary, her voice full of awe. “Elowayen, where-”

“It's a way-station, of sorts. I think.” the druid shrugged. “The Reaper-”

“Reaper?” Nathyrra interrupted. “I'm not interested in meeting any Reapers today, Elowayen. Let us be gone from here quickly.”

“Calm down,” Elowayen gave the drow a reassuring smile. “He's a spirit, nothing more; completely harmless. He's merely the guardian of this place and the doors that lead to and from here.”

“And Reaper Ghost is good at cards.” Deekin stepped up next to Elowayen, his crossbow resting lightly on his shoulder.

“And the Reaper's good at cards.” Elowayen agreed, laughter coloring her voice. “He really enjoys Markesh's Pyramid.”

“Deekin thinks Reaper Ghost cheats sometimes.” Deekin's brow was furrowed slightly. “Reaper Ghost likes to win bets with Boss.”

Nathyrra and Valen both stared in amazement at the druid. “You bet... with a _planar spirit_?” Valen still couldn't believe the nerve of the surface elf at times; baring her throat to him when he was lost in the demon-rage was one thing, betting with a spirit who could and _would_ rip her soul away was insanity.

The elf in question shrugged indifferently. “We only bet insignificant things- if I win, he shows me a vision of another world, another plane. If he wins, I bring him a trinket from my travels. It's always something small; a flower, a book, a painting from a roadside vendor. Just little bits of life for him.” 

Elowayen stepped close to Valen and lightly touched his arm. Her head tilted back, she looked him directly in the eyes and held his gaze. He glared back in return, disapproval clear in his eyes and the tight line of his lips.

“It's foolish.” Valen began, his tone lecturing and stiff.

Elowayen shrugged, her lack of concern evident. “He is... lonely. As far as I can tell, I am the only one who even comes through. He _has_ told me the reason for that before, even explained it to me a few times, but I'm still not quite sure how or why that is exactly. He calls this place a nexus, and says my Relic has something to do with it, but...” Elowayen gave a half-smile, motioning to the planar gate in front of them. “I generally only use it to avoid dying, or when I get so tired I can't even imagine walking ten feet, let alone ten miles, so I'm rarely ever here. If that means making sure I have some sort of gift for him when I pass through, then I do.”

“You are a strange one, Elowayen.” Valen shook his head at her, still shocked by her recklessness. “To gamble with such a spirit is foolish beyond all measure-”

“Can Goat-Man skip lecture until later?” Deekin whined, nervous and dancing in place. “Deekin not like Reaper Ghost's home much either.”

“In a minute, Deeks,” Elowayen knelt on the stone dais, hands buried deep within her pack as she rummaged for something. “Thank you for your concern, Valen, but this tradition is something I have no plans of changing anytime soon. _Ah.”_

She withdrew her hands, a rather worn, leather-bound book tightly clutched between them. She presented it to Valen with a slight flourish, her gaze defiant and proud. “ _This_ is what I planned on leaving him the next time I came through- does it meet with your approval?”

“'Wind by the Fireside',” he read the title aloud, looking up at the elf with an arched brow. “A poem?”

“Not just any poem, my favorite poem,” Elowayen gently chided as she placed the book at the foot of the dais. “I've always loved this poem, and in our last discussion, the Reaper asked for me to bring him a copy. I've held on to this for a while now, and I think he should have it.”

“Why is that?” Valen asked, curious.

“Perhaps... perhaps because I know how it is to be the one waiting by the fire.” Elowayen's expression softened, her eyes slightly unfocused as she regarded the book by her feet. “I have spent my life searching for something to quell the ache in my heart, to find something or someone to ease the pull of Fate.” She turned to face him then, a brilliant smile on her face. “Perhaps because now I finally understand just how it feels to wait so long for a love worth the time, the sorrow, the wait. I know, but the Reaper does not, and so I want him to understand more of the mortal life.”

“How... sentimental,” Nathyrra said, her eyes thoughtful as she studied the druid. “And so like a surfacer.”

“So like a drow to dismiss affections,” Elowayen teased back. She rose to her feet, pack in hand and turned to the planar gate- 

Only to find a tiefling in her way.

“Might we speak?”

“Certainly, Valen.” Elowayen blinked in mild confusion. “What would you like?” 

“I wish to know... who has won your affections so?” Valen cleared his throat, his tail rigid behind him and a blush bright on his cheeks. “We have not met many in our time here that I would consider proper mates for you, and you have not spoken of anyone left behind on the surface.”

Elowayen, for her part, did not laugh, merely smiled sweetly at him. “My heart belongs to a man of great character. He is warrior of the planes, brave and strong and fierce in all that he does. A warrior who refuses to acknowledge his own heart, instead standing by his duty and the promises he made long before we met.” She looked away, the tips of her ears flushed pink. “He is a man worth loving, with a heart worth knowing, even if he himself denies it.”  


“He denies you?” Valen was outraged; the idea that someone would turn away from the warmth and light Elowayen radiated was _unthinkable_ -

“He fears his past, and thinks to protect me from himself,” she replied, turning once more to face him. “He thinks that his blood will control him always, that I will never be safe from the darkness in his past.”

“He seeks to protect to then,” Valen's mind reeled as he tried to match the portrait of Elowayen's warrior to someone she had mentioned before, or someone they had met- perhaps one of the avariel-

“He does not understand that I do not care what or who he was.” Elowayen interrupted his thoughts with a shake of her head. “He is no more a slave to his past than I am, and for him to think otherwise is foolish.”

“I wish to meet this man of yours,” Valen announced gruffly. “And thrash him soundly for his foolishness.”

Elowayen blinked at him, amused. “But Valen... you already have!”

Leaving a stunned tiefling behind her, Elowayen strode to the planar gate. She grinned over her shoulder, eyes sparkling and mischievous as she paused in front of the portal. “You'll follow me, won't you?” She called out, hand held invitingly in front of her.

“Of course.” Nathyrra grinned back, delighted by the arrested look on Valen's face. She passed the still-frozen tiefling to take the druid's offered hand, a sly look thrown behind her as she moved to Elowayen's side. “There is too much at stake, after all.”

“Of course,” Elowayen replied neutrally, her lips twitching with contained mirth. 

“Deekin always follows Boss,” the kobold yipped, scrambling after the assassin. He gripped Elowayen's hand carefully, mindful of his claws. “Just like Boss never forgets Deekin.”

“I haven't yet, and I won't still.” the druid agreed, freeing her hand to give him an affectionate pat on the head.

“We should hurry, Elowayen,” Nathyrra nudged her with a shoulder, red eyes heavy and worn. “We can jest later.”

“Apologies, Nathyrra.” Elowayen looked at their last companion, still standing by the dais. “Valen?” she called out, her free hand held invitingly. “Are you coming?”

For a minute he didn't reply; Elowayen's heart hammered in her chest as she waited for his response. She was rewarded for her patience when he gave a sharp nod and moved to join them at the entrance to the gate. 

“I am yours to command.” he replied stiffly, his tail rigidly twitching from side-to-side. Elowayen was reminded, rather forcibly, of an agitated panther glaring at her from across the room, and had to bite back a laugh at the sight. 

With a smile, she stepped close and raised herself on her toes. Startled, he froze in place again as she braced her hands on his shoulders and leaned up to whisper in his ear, “Mine to command, hmm?” Her breath was hot on his skin; her voice sent shivers down his spine. “Oh, I _like_ that.”

With a laugh, she grabbed his hand and tugged him towards the portal. Nathyrra reached out and grasped his free hand, the startled yelp of the kobold ringing in his ears as they fell through the swirling fog of the gate. Sharp, bitter cold slammed into him, a touch of the Reaper's power as they journeyed through the planar energies. 

His senses dulled by the cold, Valen focused on the feel of her fingers entwined with his as they traveled, the sound of her laughter as they spiraled through the gray fog.

They materialized in the receiving room of Eilistraee's temple with a flash of light and the roar of magic. Once again, the kobold went tumbling into a heap of claws and wings while Nathyrra righted herself almost immediately, saluting the Seer with grace and aplomb. 

Elowayen, however, wavered and went to her knees almost immediately. Ignoring the gazes of those assembled, he knelt at her side in concern. 

“Portals are still a form of teleports,” she whispered hazily, a weak smile on her lips. “I should be fine in a moment, don't worry.”

“I will always worry,” he replied as he gently guided her to her feet. “It is... a specialty of mine.”

She shook her head wearily, her eyes unfocused from the teleportation. “My brave warrior,” she mumbled before she sagged against him, limp and exhausted from their battles with the undead.

Valen could feel a blush burn through his body, suddenly conscious of all those present and watching; the Seer's calculating look, Nathyrra and Deekin's matching grins- even the deva stood off to one side, beaming with delight as Elowayen righted herself in his arms.

He stepped away as the Seer approached. With a nod, he turned and left the temple as Elowayen began to give a report of their successes in the search for allies. He paused at the door to cast one last glance behind him-

To catch Elowayen's wink as she sauntered off to the temple baths, arm around Nathyrra's shoulders with the kobold and deva at their heels. He flushed, aware of the appraising glances from the assembled drow warriors as he strode through the temple doors. He stopped only to demand the location of Imloth from a frightened youth before continuing on his path _away_ from the maddening woman in the temple.

Her words whispered through his mind, replaying over and over until his face was as bright as his hair. 

_Mine to command, hmm? I like that._


	5. Chapter 5

Imloth honestly couldn't help himself. He tried, oh, he tried, to control his reaction to Valen's expression as he recounted his latest _encounter_ with Elowayen, but he just couldn't help himself.

He burst into laughter, the noise deafeningly loud in the temple's empty practice yard.

They had been engaged in a bout of had started out as friendly sparring, a routine occurrence that began as acknowledgment of each other's skills but eventually morphed into a twisted form of mutual respect. This time was more than just sparring, however; Imloth focused on merely surviving his compatriot's attacks while Valen was almost mindless in his fury, desperation in every move. It wasn't until the tiefling broke his staff and tried to impale Imloth on the shattered ends that the drow called a halt to the match, and demanded to know just _what_ was causing his friend so much trouble.

“Are you finished ridiculing me yet?” Valen growled in annoyance at the commander, his tail lashing back and forth. “I, for one, am quite done with your mockery.”

Imloth wiped tears from his eyes, still laughing, as Valen glowered on the steps next to him. “She's got you, boy.” the drow chuckled as he gasped for breath. “Dead and center, she's pinned you where she wants you.”

“That does not help me, Imloth.” Valen sulked. He hunched over his knees, face twisted into a thunderous scowl. “The only true interaction I have with elves of any kind are limited to surfacers who wished to kill me, or drow matrons who-” the tiefling stopped and shuddered. “Never mind.”

“So you are not sure if her intentions are merely for pleasure or not.” Imloth surmised.

The tiefling gave a sharp nod as he looked out over the practice field, his brow creased in thought

“She asks of my past, yet does not judge me for my actions.” Valen's voice was low and rough, his gaze focused on some distant point in the courtyard. “She does not damn me for my blood alone; instead she teases me, she invites me... and I am not so certain that I would regret accepting.”

“So why don't you?” Imloth shrugged and flicked a speck of dirt off his training leathers. “It would probably do you both good to relieve a bit of the tension.”

“I cannot be... casual about women, Imloth.” Valen dropped his gaze to stare at his booted feet. “I tried once, and I fell in love with a slave. I loved her, but I could not save her, and I just barely remember her name.”

“You are worried.”

“Wouldn't you be?” Valen's smile was hollow and bitter. “She is so _fragile_ , Imloth. She spoke once of a broken heart, of a man who sought to force her hand; yet she still cares for him, I have seen it in her eyes. She wept for _him,_ Imloth. How can I compete with a man who scarred her for all others?”

Imloth gave the warrior an appraising look. “I think that, perhaps,” he began, “a better question would be how can she compete with _your_ idea of her perfect love.”

“What do you mean by that?” Valen whirled to face the commander, his teeth bared in a snarl.

Imloth raised his hands in a placating manner, all the while grateful he had no children of his own to raise; dealing with Valen was work enough. “I meant no disrespect, only that perhaps it is _your_ ideas that are the cause of your troubles, not hers.”

“And how, exactly, did you come to that conclusion?” Valen asked angrily.

“Eilistraee, give me strength,” Imloth muttered. “Valen, you forget that I _know_ you. It is not a stretch to imagine that you think you do not deserve her, for all your sins. That she deserves something else, something that you think she needs that you cannot provide her- safety, wealth, a home-”

“Enough!” Valen leaped to his feet, a scowl on his face once more. “My hands are drenched with the blood of thousands; my past is nothing but death! How can I offer her anything when all that I touch is tainted? How can I give her what she so plainly _deserves_?”

“And she is different how?” Imloth raised a silvery brow at the tiefling's vehemence. “She, the destroyer of Undretide, the Seer's savior of the Underdark? She, the wild druid who lives on the surface, who fights and hunts just to survive? Her hands are just as bloody, her conscience just as heavy, yet she does not think herself too low, too ruined for you. Do not deny what _both_ of you so obviously want, Valen.”

Valen turned and stalked away, his body rigid and tense. Imloth was not deterred by the show of dramatics; he merely raised his voice to call after the tiefling, “Perhaps it is not her idea of a perfect love that you need to break, but your own!”

“Imloth?”

The commander whirled around to face a rather bemused Seer and her escort, all gathered behind him in a loose circle.

“Mother Seer!” Imloth bowed quickly. “I did not hear you arrive-”

“You were not meant to, Imloth.” She said quietly, lavender eyes searching his face. “Come, walk with me. I have questions, and something tells me that you have answers.”

“Questions, Mother Seer?” Imloth desperately wracked his brain for matters that would concern her- and could only think of one. Blanching, he faced the Seer and nearly panicked at the look on her face. “About what?”

“Why, Valen and Elowayen, of course.”

-o-

“This soap of yours is so strange, Elowayen.” Nathyrra sniffed the glass bottle in her hand, scrunching her nose up at the unfamiliar scents. “What did you call this again?”

“I didn't call it anything,” Elowayen defended as she swam from one side of the bathing pool to the other. “My friend Ayalya gave it to me before I left Hilltop. She uses it herself when traveling, to avoid smelling like flowers or perfumed oils when in the middle of nowhere. Something about trolls like to eat sweet things.”

“It's so... so light,” Nathyrra sniffed again, “and smells like herbs.”

“Probably because it's made from herbs.” Elowayen rolled her eyes before she ducked beneath the surface to wash the grit from her hair. She surfaced with a splash, her hair in wet clumps around her face as she stretched out her hand. “My soap, please.”

Nathyrra obligingly handed her the bottle and watched as the druid shook out a small amount of soap flakes into her hands. She lightly rubbed it into her hair before she poured more into her palms and vigorously scrubbed at her skin.

“You will smell so out of place in the caverns. The creatures will come flocking to you.” the assassin remarked as she reached for her own vial of soap.

“I don't care.” the druid shot the bottle in Nathyrra's hand a dirty look. “Your drow soaps are so _heavy._ I don't see how you can use them without getting ill.”

Nathyrra shrugged as Elowayen dove under the water's surface to rinse herself clean. “Perhaps I am merely used to them.” she suggested when the pale elf had once again risen.

“Perhaps.” Elowayen climbed out of the pool, dripping water on the marble floor as she searched for a towel. “Perhaps my _darthiir_ nose is merely more sensitive than yours, drow.”

“Perhaps your reflexes are dulled by your reliance on light as well.” Nathyrra sneered, pouring out a generous helping of soap. A rich, musky scent filled the room, reminiscent of the perfumes sold in the Bedine markets of the Anauroch. It overpowered the light scent of herbs and caused the druid's eyes to water from the potency; Nathyrra, on the other hand, sank into the water with a blissful sigh.

Elowayen coughed lightly as she wrapped herself in a robe. “If you plan on suffocating yourself, do so when I'm gone.”

“Already running from my company?” Nathyrra smirked, teeth bared in a wicked grin.

Elowayen didn't answer, instead waving a silent goodbye to Nathyrra as she left the bathing chamber with towel and soap bottle in hand. Quietly, she padded her way through the halls, her bare feet barely making any noise on the cold marble. Fortunately, she didn't run into any drow on her way to her room, a circumstance that had her grateful and guilty all at once.

Nathyrra was a good, if troubled, soul, and while the Seer was a bit... effusive in her praise of Eilistraee, she was also kind and welcoming- almost to a fault. Imloth, though a bit standoffish the few times she had spoken to him, lacked the natural inborn arrogance of his kind, and Elowayen thought that he would make a decent drinking partner... if she was the kind to spend her evenings in a tavern.

A slight scuffing noise made her pause in her musings. Elowayen immediately slipped to the side of the hall, her lips and fingers falling into a pattern natural to her ways. With a rush of energy and whisper of power, she felt her skin take the mottled shades of marble around her. A quick twist of her fingers and the robe fluttered to the ground, a splash of violet silk against the black stone. She glided silently through the corridor, the fingers of one hand flat along the wall as she moved. While convenient in certain circumstances, her camouflage spell would not last forever, nor was it strong enough to completely hide her from view. It merely created an illusion to help confuse her enemies as she hunted; while such a thing was easy in the forest, it was somewhat difficult to manage in a drow temple.

Ahead, a torch flickered in its bracket and set the shadows in the hall to dancing. She remembered Tomi and his Shadowdancing, how he could flicker in and out of the darkness-

Another scuff had her pressed tightly against the wall, alert and on edge as she watched for a sign of the cause of the noise. Once again, memories resurfaced- this time, memories of the Red Sister who appeared in her room at the Yawning Portal. A silent shadow who died only because of the Seer's gift, Elowayen was well aware of her vulnerability. She was without a weapon or armor, lax in her guard because the temple was supposed to be safe from the Valsharess and her followers.

The door to her chamber opened slightly, and a gaunt male slipped out. He wore the lurid uniform colors of House Maeviir; Elowayen felt her heart sink as she watched him vanish down the hall, away from her and any chance to demand answers.

_Even here, I am not safe._

The realization pained her more than she wanted to admit. She slowly reached towards the open door, a spell already forming in her hands-

A large hand came out of nowhere to grip her wrist and break her concentration. Elowayen gasped, the spell sputtering out as Valen flung her against the wall. “ _Valen_ -”

“ _Elowayen_?” He halted in place, his voice incredulous. “What are you _doing_ -”

“I-” she stopped as she felt the tell-tale tingles of a fading spell. “Give me a minute.” she muttered, darting past him to her fallen robe. She quickly donned and belted the silk before she turned around to face him. Her spell faded at the same time, leaving her visible to the naked eye once more. “Sorry; I was paranoid and I heard a noise-”

“I saw your door open and I-” he began at the same time, halting when she tried to speak. “My apologies, my lady, I-”

“Oh, come off it.” Elowayen shook her head. “I need you to go into my room.”

He made a choked noise deep in his throat. “ _What_?”

“I saw a drow come out of my room in the colors of House Maeviir. I'm currently lacking weapons or armor, and you are not,” she indicated his training leathers with a hand, “And I would prefer to not die a horribly ungracious death after that wonderful bath I just had.”

“So I am to be your shield?” he raised a brow at the elf, somewhat maliciously enjoying the sight of her flushing red.

“Well, yes, to be blunt,” she admitted. She rubbed her neck self-consciously, obviously uncomfortable with her lack of protection. “And my sword as well.”

He laughed, the sound startlingly gentle, and swept into a slight bow before he straightened upright once more. “Your wish is my command.”

He moved in front of her then, slowly inching towards the door with the deliberate steps of a predator. Elowayen followed close behind, hands nervously clutching at the lapels of her robe. She gasped as he suddenly dashed into the room, the only sign of his passage a rush of air and the creak of his armor. She darted after him, her hands already priming a healing spell- only to find him standing in the middle of her chamber, staring at an unmarked envelope sitting against her pillow.

“Valen?” she murmured, the spell fizzling out as she stepped close behind him. “What is it?”

“The answer to many, many questions, Elowayen.” he replied softly, his eyes hard as he glared at the envelope. “I do not wish to pry, but as this was left to you, may I stay while you read it?”

“Oh... certainly, Valen.” she exhaled as she moved around him to lightly poke at the envelope with one finger. “Is it-”

“It is safe.” he nodded. “I sense no magic on it.”

“You sense magic?” Elowayen turned to face him, curiosity written on her face. “The energies, or just certain spells? Can you sense anything else or are you limited to just-”

“The magical energies. All planars are sensitive to such things. It was... how I could find you, in the hallway when you were disguised.” He looked vaguely uncomfortable at the line of questioning and nodded back towards the envelope. “My lady, the letter?”

“Oh! Sorry.” she leaned over and picked up the object of his ire. Richly textured and a deep crimson, the paper screamed of wealth and nobility- and she could not think of any in Lith My'athar who would have access to such excess. She opened it, breaking the unmarked wax seal, to find another piece of heavy red paper folded inside. Elowayen heard Valen approach to stand behind her as she unfolded the letter, revealing a spidery script in black ink.

“I can't read this, can you?” she passed him the paper over her shoulder; his fingers brushed hers as he took the letter and she shivered. It struck her how intimate things appeared between them right then, and that Valen might take it a bit... _contrived_ after their last encounter. Not wishing to offend him, she moved towards the bed with quiet deliberation and seated herself, watching his lips move as he read the unknown words. Suddenly his face darkened and he crushed the paper in his hand, cursing something or someone in drow. “Valen?”

“I am sorry, my lady, but you must dress. We must see the Seer immediately. I will wait for you outside.”

He turned and left the room quickly without another word. Unsettled, Elowayen moved towards the armoire provided with the room, praying that new armor waited inside. To her chagrin, there were only a tunic and loose pants, both dyed the violet-black color of a deep bruise. She held the tunic up to the torchlight; a man's tunic, far too long and loose for her to wear comfortably. With a sigh, she knew the pants would be an ill-fit as well, and that to even attempt to wear them would be foolish.

“There's no hope for it, then.” She groaned as she turned back to the robe. “Here's hoping they don't think I'm propositioning anyone.”

-o-

Valen fumed in the hallway, the damning letter from Zesyyr Maeviir still crumpled in his fist. How dare that insolent whelp try to involve Elowayen in her petty political squabbles. How _dare_ she try to arrange the Seer's savior to-

He snapped out of his thoughts at the sound of the door opening. He turned, ready to explain his actions when he actually took stock of what Elowayen was wearing- or rather, what she wasn't.

A dark silk tunic hung from her frame, almost sliding off her shoulders with ease. She had wrapped the belt from the robe around her neck and under her bust in an attempt to keep the garment on, an action that only accentuated certain areas that Valen desperately wished were once again hidden beneath layers of leather armor. The tunic barely reached her knees, falling in soft folds that rippled as she walked. Her hair was loose and curled, strands damply clinging to her throat as she turned her head to regard him with curious eyes.

He took a deep breath, trying so hard to maintain control, only to catch the forest scent that surrounded her like an aura. Without realizing it, he had taken three steps forward and pressed her against the door frame to her chambers, bending down until he could inhale that scent with every breath.

“Valen?”

“You smell- where I came to the surface- a forest.” he choked out, fighting the urge to nuzzle her throat and hair until that same scent was pressed into his skin, until it soaked into his being. “I haven't- it's been so long-”

Slowly, he cupped her face in his hand, his palm rough and calloused against her bath-softened skin. He leaned closer, still breathing in the scent of forests and magic that emanated off of her, as his hand slid from her cheek to rest lightly on her throat. With a slight purr, Elowayen tilted her head back, her eyes lidded and heavy. “Valen-”

He kissed her.

Hungrily, forcefully, he kissed her. He teased with nips to her lips and jaw. He growled when she didn't open her mouth fast enough; he rumbled in pleasure when she did. His tongue slipped in, testing, tasting, _taking._ His hand held her in place while his arm snaked around her waist to pull her tight against him. She mewled in pleasure and tangled her hands in his hair in response.

With a groan, he effortlessly lifted her off her feet to pin her against the wall, desperate and wild to feel her. He bit at the corner of her mouth and she arched against him with a moan, her legs wrapping around his waist. Panting, Valen pulled far enough away to see her expression; hazy green eyes stared back at him over lips swollen from his kisses. Elowayen groaned again, and tugged on his hair until he brought his lips back to hers. Greedily, he swallowed her cries and lost himself in the feel and taste of her. With a nudge to her chin, Elowayen tilted her head back and revealed the column of her throat. He bent down and lightly bit the soft skin at the junction of her neck and shoulder, delighted by the throaty moan that escaped her-

The feminine clearing of a throat brought both of them back to the present with a crash. Valen broke away from her neck with a start as Elowayen buried her face in his chest, the tips of her ears flushed red. Carefully, they disentangled; Elowayen unwound her legs from his waist while Valen gently lowered her back to the ground. She refused to look up as she regained her balance, her blush now reaching from her ears all the way past the neckline of the tunic. He, on the other hand, straightened up and met the Seer's gaze head on, refusing to give in to his embarrassment.

“Well, this certainly was... unexpected.” The Seer's lightly amused tone had _both_ of them blushing like naughty schoolchildren, each refusing to look at the other. “Unexpected, but still delightful.”

“Seer-” Valen began, only to have her silently raise her hand.

“I had a vision. Tell me, Valen, what has occurred that you would fear for our safety so greatly?”

-o-

“So Matron Myrune will betray us then.” The Seer sat back in her seat, her expression thoughtful. “I see. She seeks Elowayen's aid to further demonstrate her... dedication to our cause.”

“ _Or_ to have Elowayen killed in her stead.” Valen scowled as his tail snapped from side-to-side, a habit he only displayed when extremely angry. “I do not think-”

“I'll do it.”

His head whipped to the side, staring at the slightly rumpled but surprisingly serene elf. She calmly sat on a small settee in the Seer's private quarters, a cup of herbal tea in hand. She met his fiery gaze with a tranquil look of her own. She gently set the cup on a low table before speaking, her gaze distant and unfocused.

“I'll do it. Not because I particularly agree with Zesyyr's methods, but because I do believe that her mother would betray us if she had the chance to. And Zesyyr, though young, is desperate to survive.” Elowayen shook her head as she mulled over her words. “I know I am a relative newcomer to drow politics, but if her mother surrenders to the Valsharess, it's logical to assume that Zesyyr will die, correct? The Valsharess will destroy House Maeviir completely to absorb its power into her ranks, and Zesyyr wants to survive. She wants glory and power, not shame and defeat.” She looked up at Valen as she finished her thought, her expression rueful. “I admit, a quick assassination would be much easier, but I would not ask that of anyone here. I will not command someone to do something I would not. It makes me no better than Zesyyr, or Myrune, for that matter.”

“Elowayen's thoughts do have merit.” The Seer stated slowly. “And Zesyyr is willing enough to risk a servant stealing into Elowayen's quarters... she is desperate to find allies.”

“Which reminds me, could you have someone go over the room? I don't necessarily trust House Maeviir, nor do I trust things not to have gone missing.” Elowayen gave the Seer a apologetic smile. “I don't mean to sound rude, but-”

“It was distressing to have such a violation, especially here.” The Seer nodded her agreement. “I will go myself, Elowayen. In the meantime, I want you to go to Rizolvir. He has armor waiting for you there.”

“Thank you, Seer.” Elowayen bowed her head as she stood, understanding the silent dismissal. “Um... perhaps you could send Nathyrra instead? I seem to be missing appropriate clothing, since most of my belongings were stolen by the Red Sisters.” she blushed slightly, motioning to her lack of trousers.

“I will send her instead.” The Seer gave the druid a half-smile. “I will have Valen escort you to her room; you will stay there until your chamber is cleared.”

Elowayen gave a slight nod, her face softening as she gazed at Valen.

His anger at her decision, however, did not allow his face to soften back.

-o-

“He is a rothe's ass, Elowayen.” Nathyrra spat angrily. The assassin sat on her bed and watched the druid strap on her new leathers. “A large, pimpled, stinking hairy rothe's _ass_ with a-a- a _duergar's_ brain!”

Elowayen laughed, an unusually sad sound. “Perhaps. I think he is merely worried, and very poor at expressing that.”

“We have a word for that.” Nathyrra jumped to her feet and began to pace back and forth across the floor. Elowayen paid her no mind and instead adjusted the fit of her chest piece. “It's a bit sibilant for a surfacer like yourself, but perhaps with time you-”

“ _Nathyrra._ ” Elowayen cut into the drow's rant. “I appreciate your concern and anger, but I also understand his view. I will not cheapen that by insulting him until he actually does something worthy of being insulted. Then you may teach me the filthiest drow curses you know.” she added with a wickedly sharp grin.

“Did the Seer say how long it would take before your belongings were considered clear? I would like to get on with this... _problem_ as soon as possible.”

“You and me both, my friend.” Elowayen sighed. Finally satisfied with the fit of her new armor, she closed her eyes to block out the image of Valen's gaze, usually so warm and gentle towards her, turn cold and frigid when he looked at her.

-o-

“You're a rothe's ass, my friend.”

“Thank you, Imloth. Your insight is welcome.” Valen grumbled.

“If you keep seeking my advice handling your druid, I'll start to think it actually is.” the drow chortled into his tankard. “You're still an ass.”

“ _Thank you_ , Imloth.” Valen gritted his teeth in annoyance. Why he felt the need to come to the tavern was still beyond him; yet here he was, sitting at a table with Imloth for company again. He sighed and rubbed his face; if he wasn't careful, this could become a habit.

“Apologize to her.” Imloth's suggestion cut through his muddled thoughts. “It's a start to getting back on her good side.”

“I didn't do anything wrong!” Valen snarled angrily at the drow. His hand clenched around his own tankard, his grip fierce enough to leave finger-grooves in the metal. “She's the one acting like-”

“Like the prophetical savior of the rebel army?” Imloth raised a brow. “You're right, a completely foolish idea we must immediately rid her of to prevent her from doing something dangerous.”

“You are not helping.” Valen snapped. “At all.”

“You are not willing to accept help, so perhaps sarcasm will sink into that demon-thick skull of yours, instead.” The drow shrugged as he drank deeply from his ale. Setting the tankard down with a clunk, he wiped the back of his hand across his mouth before continuing. “She's displaying all the signs of a female willing to mate you, Valen. She did not protest your manhandling earlier either, and if there were a time to protest anything-”

“ _Where_ did you hear about that?” Valen hissed and surged to his feet, _looming_ over the commander with a scowl.

“While you do present an imposing image right now, tiefling, you do not scare me.” Imloth smirked and motioned for Valen to be seated once more. “As for how I heard it... we are in Lith My'athar. To think that word of such things would not get around, no matter how few saw it, is just plain foolish.”

Valen flushed deep at Imloth's words, shame overcoming his rage. He had tainted Elowayen's reputation in the rebel camp; he made her seem cheap and tawdry, easy prey to any dominating male that decided to bed the “wild surface druid”.

While he may not have spent much time with the troops since Elowayen's arrival, he still paid attention to the barracks gossip. The drow males had long speculated what a surfacer would be like in bed, even before her arrival, and now such stories would only increase the dangers to her person- all because he could not control his urges. Now she faced even more difficulties in Lith My'athar, not just from the drow's natural hatred of outsiders, but now from their desire to conquer and defile.

He growled at the thought of another touching her, kissing her, making her moan as he did-

He spun on his heels, marching away from a startled Imloth as he went to seek out _his_ wayward druid. She would not be allowed to let any other male touch her, to be near her, to aid her in her quest. He would tear them apart if they tried.

-o-

“That was one of the most unpleasant things I have ever done.”

Elowayen sat on the low roof of the cleric's quarters with Nathyrra and a bottle of drow wine. They reclined against the wall of a tower in an effort to relax after their battle in House Maeviir. Unable to find Valen in time, Elowayen had elected to go with only Nathyrra and Deekin instead. The bard's magic proved invaluable, casting spell after spell to cover her; meanwhile, Nathyrra's skills _shone_ as she danced through the blades, laughing with a sick glee when she impaled guard after guard on the tips of her rapiers.

“It is but one of many such things for me.” Nathyrra took a pull from the bottle, offering it back to Elowayen. “I killed many in the service of the Red Sisters, and more in the service of the Seer.”

The pale elf accepted the bottle with a nod of thanks, taking a light swig before resting her head against the brick of the tower behind her. “I regret the loss of life, no matter what the person may have done with theirs.”

“You are a druid, Elowayen. I am an assassin.” Nathyrra reasoned gently. She raised her head to look up at the darkness above. “I live in a society where shadows reign and the lives and actions of others are merely a tool, the weapons for the Matrons, the strongest of our lines. _You_ come from a place where mercy and compassion are lessons taught at a loving mother's knee; here our mothers teach no such thing. Any softness, like that which you display... such things are frowned upon here in the Underdark.”

“And that breaks my heart.” Elowayen quietly replied, closing her eyes as she took another drink. “Even my own family... they were misguided, but they did love me, in a way. Even after... it was hard, but they did love me.”

“It is... a foreign concept to me, love.” Nathyrra admitted as she plucked the wine from Elowayen's grasp. “I do not know a mother's love, only her pride... and her disappointment.” The drow shook her head. “Even when we take lovers, there is no love, only lust and desire. Occasionally it is to beget a child, but even then it is not out of love, merely survival.”

“What of Eilistraee?” Elowayen asked. “Does she not teach of love and forgiveness? To find the light in the darkness?”

Nathyrra frowned, taking a drink of wine before passing the bottle back to Elowayen. “Well, yes, but... it is difficult here, for one such as I to find love. You must understand, Elowayen- I told you my past. You know of my history with the Red Sisters, and how I am treated within Lith My'athar. There is no love for me here.”

“Perhaps not yet,” Elowayen argued as she accepted the bottle back. “But perhaps there is someone out there for you, one who does not care of your past. I gave up hope after Aarin, but-”

Elowayen stopped, hands trembling as she took a deep pull from the bottle. “Just... do not give up, Nathyrra. Please.”

They sat in companionable silence for a while, content to listen to the noises of the temple below. Nathyrra chanced a look at Elowayen, startled to see vacant eyes and hunched shoulders.

“You so rarely speak of this Aarin, but when you do, your voice is thick with tears.” Nathyrra began, watching for the druid's reaction. “What did he truly do to earn him such regard and you such sorrow?”

“You have never loved, Nathyrra,” Elowayen leaned forward, her arms wrapped around her knees. “To truly love... it is a willingness to completely give up your heart, your soul... everything that you are to another, to do anything to please them and secure their happiness before your own.”

“Sounds very similar to drow society,” Nathyrra remarked. “Minus the calculating and the killing, of course.”

“It is a glorious thing, to truly love.” Elowayen sighed. “You do those things not out of a sense of filial duty, but out of the desire to see your lover happy, content- to see them smile and laugh, to feel their happiness radiate from them-”

“Minus the calculating and the killing, but with the addition of sentimental poetry.” Nathyrra nodded, a grin on her face. “Got it.”

“Not quite.” Elowayen sighed again, her fingers absently playing with the laces on her boots. “Have you ever felt something, anything, where you would lay down your life to see someone smile? Not because of a reward, or lack of punishment, but out of a genuine desire to see them happy? That is love, Nathyrra.”

“You realize you're asking me if I've ever loved, correct?” Nathyrra laughed and shook her head at Elowayen. “We just killed a Matron Mother, and here you are, waning maudlin after a few sips of drow wine and asking if I've ever loved. Elowayen, I'm stunned.”

“I'm serious, Nathyrra.” Elowayen gave her a quelling look. “Just because you're drow doesn't mean you cannot love- just look at the Seer. Everything she does is out of love, whether her goddess compels her or not. The fact that she forgives so easily, that she protects those who are lost... all she does is out of love. Maybe not romantic love, but love nonetheless.”

Nathyrra fell silent at the druid's words. More time passed, each woman lost in her own thoughts before Nathyrra spoke again. “You're right about the Seer, Elowayen. However, as for me... no, I haven't ever experienced anything like that before.”

Elowayen sighed, resting her cheek on her bent knees as she stared off into the distance. “I have. _That_ is why I would have done  anything for Aarin; I would have stayed with him forever, if he had only asked me. Instead, he went to Lord Nasher and told him that we should wed. A marriage between the Hero of Neverwinter and the Spymaster would lift the spirits of the people, it would give them something to hope for in the wake of the Wailing Death and the War of the Old Ones.” Elowayen smiled bitterly, lifting her head to gaze at Nathyrra. “He did not ask me, merely 'suggested' this to Nasher. Nasher, who told me that I _would_ marry Aarin without a thought to my own desires. He told me that I would become an emissary for the city, and work to better the relations with their neighbors and allies. I would be stripped of my ability to run through the wilds, forced to wear gowns and jewels and sit in windowless rooms all day, talking and arguing and dealing with those whose actions would sicken even the drow.”

“You are not for politics or noblity,” Nathyrra laid a comforting hand on the druid's shoulder, eyes gentle and understanding. “Neither of them truly understood your nature, and from your descriptions of this Aarin's actions... he never loved you. He would have never done such a thing to you if he had truly loved you.”

“I think he did love me,” Elowayen sighed. She regarded the drow with melancholy eyes and tremulous smile. “I think he was so worried that I would leave, so terrified that something would come between us... the execution of Aribeth was a blow that I could not recover from so easily. She had been a friend, a mentor, an example of good and right. She was willing to listen, to wait, to reserve judgment until after a person's actions had occurred. She only damned the city in revenge when it betrayed her first, and her reward was death. She was hung and burned like a common criminal, and it rankled. Aarin could see my anger and my spite, and he feared a repeat of Aribeth... and Calliara, I think.”

“Calliara?” Nathyrra leaned forward, eyes bright with interest. “Who is this Calliara?”

“His first love, a rogue who controlled a guild of thieves. He killed her in battle, refusing to betray the city for her. I think he feared I would betray it as well, and feared what Nasher would do if I did. He moved to act, to tell him first before speaking with me, and I confronted Nasher before Aarin could ask me.” Elowayen shook her head again, turning away from Nathyrra. “It was a tangled web, one I tore in my haste to escape what I saw as nothing more than glorified slavery. Do you know what the worst part about it was, though?” she angrily asked the drow.

Nathyrra shook her head, confused by the sudden turn of emotions. “No, I do not.”

“The worst part of it all was that I _would_ have stayed, if he had but asked me first! I _would_ have married him, dedicated my life to a castle of stone, to children and politics and _him_. Instead he sought a way to protect me from myself, and lost me in his frantic haste.”

“I am glad you did not stay in Neverwinter, Elowayen.” This time it was Nathyrra's gaze that was unfocused, lost in the gloom of Lith My'athar even as the druid turned to face her. “You... are one of the few who have accepted who I am, what I have done, and I do not know if another would have been as... accepting as you.”

“We all have sorrows and regrets in our past, Nathyrra.” Elowayen's voice was soft as she gazed down into the courtyard. “Our salvation comes in not letting them rule our present as they did our past.”

“Do you regret leaving him?” Nathyrra asked suddenly, her eyes slightly narrowed as she regarded the pale elf. “Do you regret coming here?”

“Honestly?” Elowayen took a deep breath, exhaling before she turned to face the drow. “No, I do not. I loved Aarin, and something tells me I always will, but... the life that awaited me in Neverwinter was one that I would have come to regret, to loathe. Even if I married Aarin, even if I had children by him... I think I would eventually abandon it, everything I had, to return to the wilds. To return to all of this, and all that it entails, and I am... glad, for lack of a better term, to be here, right now.” She shot the assassin a saucy smile then, her eyes twinkling. “I wouldn't have met Master Drogan if I had stayed, and found the true father of my soul. I wouldn't have Deekin to write books about my adventures, even if they are exaggerated and a bit florid at times. I wouldn't have made my way here, to the Underdark, and met you or the Seer or-”

“Valen?” Nathyrra queried, her raising her eyebrows as Elowayen blushed. “You are truly a strange one, Elowayen, but I am grateful for your honesty. I am glad you are here as well. Now pass the wine, and tell me more about that kiss earlier today.”

Elowayen groaned as she handed the bottle back to Nathyrra, her face a bright pink. “How in all the hells did you find out about that?”

“We're drow, Elowayen.” Nathyrra grinned wickedly. “Your kobold has written a song about us since your arrival- I believe he used the phrase 'black death and bloody sex' to describe us.”

“I'm going to kill him.” Elowayen vowed, growling as Nathyrra laughed.

“Don't be cross with him, Elowayen- if anything, the _jaluken_ at the tavern ate it up. I've not seen such a clamor before- apparently he has a touch with the particularly bawdy-”

“Oh, that's _it_! One kobold kabob, coming up!”

-o-

In retrospect, she was grateful that she had taken Deekin and Nathyrra with her to Maeviir; they now worked so well together, it was almost eerie. The kobold protected the assassin as she worked her spells, his bardic energies complimenting Nathyrra's arcane magics while his crossbow kept the more voracious creatures at bay. Their prowess left her free to chase after a bloodthirsty tiefling who had, once again, forgotten that not _everyone_ was as able to smash through a group of enemies like a whirlwind and take only minor wounds.

She cried out as a beholder caught her in the arm with an energy ray, cold shocking her senses. A stinging numbness began to creep through her limbs; she bore the answering rush of Wild magic with gritted teeth as it blocked whatever affliction the monster tried to use against her.

“Valen!” she shouted again and tumbled to the side, dodging another beam attack. Elowayen drove her sword into the beholder's face with a snarl, magical fire springing from the enchanted blade. “Valen, _fall back!_ ”

The tiefling ignored her. His flail sang through the air as he tore through beholder after beholder, maniacal laughter filling the air as he spun to avoid attacks from teeth and magic alike. Elowayen winced as he caught one beholder in the main eye; the flail punched through the back of the creature's body with a squelch. Valen spun, and Devil's Bane ripped free of the corpse with a noise that nearly had Elowayen retching. Lost in battle-fever, his weapon found its next target- and smashed directly into the open mouth of the Hive Mother.

“ _Valen_!” she screamed as he was flung away from the Eye Tyrant to crash into one of the stalagmites rising from the cavern floor. The Tyrant turned to face Elowayen with a roar, ignoring the tiefling staggering back to his feet. She threw herself to the side again, taking shelter behind another rock as Valen charged back into the fray with a cry of his own.

 _Gods save us. We can't die here in these caves. Not like this,_ she thought in desperation. Plans flashed through her mind and she discarded every one of them as quickly as they came. It wasn't until Valen howled in pain that she left the relative safety of her shelter, unhooking her shortbow as she ran. _May the gods see it fit to guide my hand,_ she prayed.

Elowayen splashed through puddles of blood and gore, dodging a fire spell a beholder mages unleashed in her direction. “Deekin, Nathyrra, cover me,  _now_ !” she shouted. With one last look at the bleeding tiefling below her, she bounded up a boulder and drew back the string of her bow. A arrow magically appeared between her fingers, thrumming with energy. “Valen,  _get down!_ ”

By some grace of the gods, he heard her and dodged to the side, Devil's Bane meeting one of the remaining beholders as she loosened her hold on the string. Assanti's magic crackled to life, the arrow flying across the cavern to impale the Hive Mother straight in the main eye. With a horrible screech, the Hive Mother reared in pain, revealing the roof of a bloodstained mouth; a target Elowayen could not refuse. She drew back the string again and again, Assanti's magic humming between her fingers until her whole body was vibrating from the force of the Hive Mother's cries-

-and the answering shrieks from the tunnels behind them.

“Nathyrra, Deekin, get in here!” Elowayen screamed. She spun round and dropped to one knee, sight lined to face the open doorway. Behind her the Tyrant wailed once more, the shriek abruptly cut off with the familiar sound of Devil's Bane as it tore through flesh and bone. She did not take her eyes from the entrance, merely waited until her erstwhile companions rushed through the opening, the aura from their spells illuminating the tunnel behind them.

Without turning her head, she barked out commands, desperate to keep her companions safe. “Nathyrra, get under cover and keep casting! Deekin, heal Valen _now._ ”

She drew back the string once more, breath held as she waited for her chance. Time seemed to slow and stand still, and she still waited for the perfect opportunity. Seconds later, she saw her chance and released her arrow. It flew straight into the open mouth of another beholder, just as it floated into the entrance. The creature screeched in pain and flailed against the rock walls of the tunnel, the sound searing against her hearing- and yet she drew again, again, again, releasing Assanti's magic as if it was no more difficult than breathing.

The corpses began to pile up and block the entrance, yet judging by the sounds from the adjoining chamber, there were still more coming.

Elowayen began to panic. With a curse, she dropped her bow and raised her hands, the divine words slipping from her lips without a thought. Behind her, she could hear the chime of a major healing spell as Deekin yelped at Valen to _stay still, Goat-Man_ , while to her right, magic spheres burst from Nathyrra's hands. The missiles shot over the bodies to slam into the lead monster, a blind mage with bits of rotting flesh caught in its jagged teeth-

 _Earthmother, Treefather, save us_ , she prayed as she raised her hands above her head. _Save_ them.

“Boss _no_!”

“Elowayen, look out!”

“ _Elowayen_!”

Elowayen watched, detached, as time once again slowed to a crawl. Even as her spell released and divine magic crashed from the heavens, a beholder shot forward with impossible speed. A beam burst from its main eye stalk even as it died in the holy flames.

She felt the ray hit her directly in the chest; felt the force knock her off her feet and towards the rocky ground below. She felt the icy cold spread through her body once more, felt her scream catch in her throat as her lungs struggled to breathe.

She saw a final flash of red and green before black spread across her vision. The familiar touch of Death's hand welcomed her home once more.

-o-

Valen knelt in the gore of battle, Elowayen's lifeless body clutched to his chest. He felt slow, fogged, as if he were moving through quicksand. _I failed her. I lost myself in battle once more, and she paid the price._

The bard had just healed him when he heard the shrieks of his companions over the roar of wild magic. He turned in time to see the beholder's ray strike her, to watch her stiffen and hear her scream abruptly die as she fell- a sound that wrenched his heart even as he raced to her fallen form. She was cold when he reached her, cold and pale and unmoving.

He heard the scrabbling of claws as the kobold drew near, felt Nathyrra's hand on his shoulder and heard her murmurs in his ear as he dropped to the ground, stunned. He stared at the grimace on Elowayen's face, her eyes wide in fear and her mouth twisted in pain. So different from before, from when her eyes were clouded with desire, her mouth swollen from his attentions as she panted-

_No._

Heedless of the blood soaking his armor, he buried his face in the tangled mess of her hair, desperate to catch even a hint of her forest scent. Instead he was greeted with the tang of sweat and blood, bitter and fetid against her skin.

 _No_.

He had gathered her against him then, her head tipping back over his arm to reveal a bloodless throat. A splatter of beholder blood stained the delicate skin; he wiped it away, gently, softly, with a scrap of cloth the kobold pressed into his hand. “Elowayen, wake up.” he ordered, her face cradled against his palm. “Hells take it, elf, _wake up_.”

“Valen, we have to leave.” Nathyrra tried to shake him, tried to make him see reason even as she blinked back tears. “We have to get her to the Seer-”

“ _No._ ” he growled. He bent his head and nuzzled at Elowayen's cheek, his breath warming her skin. “She's not dead, Nathyrra. _I can still feel her_.”

“Valen-”

“Goat-Man's right!” Deekin crawled to sit next to the tiefling. “Boss will come back, just wait and see!”

“She's dead, you idiots.” Nathyrra hissed in disbelief. _That they could be so willful to not see that she's passed away.._. “We'll all be dead soon if we don't leave!”

“We are not leaving her, Nathyrra.” Valen snarled. He cradled Elowayen against him, his arm wrapped around her shoulders to support her head. “She will come back.”

“She had best do it soon, then.” Nathyrra snapped, peering over the boulder at the smoking remains of the beholders. She had not know that Elowayen could summon such powerful magic to her control. She had feared for her life when the meteors appeared out of nowhere and crashed into the beholders. The entire cave system was jarred from the force of their impacts; she feared that Elowayen's spell had backfired and would cause the walls to cave in around them. Instead, the abominations had died, and had taken Elowayen with them.

 _I hope they are right, my friend._ Nathyrra turned her gaze to where her companions huddled around the druid's body. _For your sake, as well as theirs._

-o-

Her entire body _hurt._ She had died before, so the sensation of death was nothing new, or even uncomfortable to her, but _this_ was, and she disliked it. Intensely.

Elowayen opened her eyes with a groan to see the familiar shadowed ceiling of the Reaper's Sanctuary. Head swimming, she rolled over to her side and took deep breaths- a tactic to avoid emptying the contents her stomach on the floor. Eventually she was able to control her reaction and forced herself to her feet. She staggered a bit as she struggled to find her balance, but was eventually able to stand upright and look around for her silent audience.

“Sojourner.” the voice rolled out of the shadows. Heavily cowled, the Reaper stepped out of the darkness between two columns, the glow of its eyes focused on her form.

“Reaper.” Elowayen smiled at the cloaked figure. “I would say it's good to see you again, but you know how I am about dying.”

“It is not my fault that you continue to defy the natural order, Sojourner,” The Reaper's voice held a hint of amusement as she wobbled on her feet. “It is through a fault of your own that you are here.”

“I know, I know,” Elowayen lightly touched the leather pouch that held the Relic . “Me and my damnable curiosity. If I had realized I wouldn't get rid of the damn thing once I touched it-”

“You would have still touched it, Sojourner.” The Reaper's voice lost all tone of amusement as it faced her, its leathery wings spread wide. “You were meant to have it in your possession, and were meant to use its powers.”

Elowayen held up her hand to stave off the Reaper's usual tirade of fate and death, speaking quickly before it could recover. “That being said, since I'm once again back here, what would you like from Toril this time?”

“I... enjoyed the book you left last time, Sojourner.” The Reaper slightly bowed its head in her direction. “Perhaps another book of poetry, or perhaps a tale from your world's legends.”

“I think I have just the one in mind.” Elowayen grinned, grateful her diversion worked. “I'll bring it the next time I 'port through. I'll need to get back to Toril to do that, though.”

“Behold, Sojourner, a gate awaits you.” The Reaper bowed low. It stepped aside to reveal a faintly glowing planar door. “Go with grace, and live once more.”

“Thanks, Reaper.” Elowayen dipped into a quick curtsey before she squared her shoulders. “Gods, I hate this part.” she muttered as she walked through the door.

-o-

With a shuddering gasp, Elowayen arched as she was _slammed_ back into her body once more. Her muscled screamed in pain as she gasped for breath, her breathing restricted by something pressing firmly against her chest. She started to struggle, to try and release herself from whatever was holding her so tight- only to lose all progress when something slammed into her side and tipped her and her attacker over into the squelching, sucking mud beneath.

“ _Boss!”_

“Deeks?” Elowayen shook her head, blinking as her vision was fully restored. “Oh gods above, I _hate_ this.”

“Elowayen?” a voice breathed in her ear. She raised her head as best she could and caught only a glimpse of piercing blue. Then someone was embracing her tightly, words murmured in a voice so low even her Elvish hearing could barely catch the words. “Gods, you're _alive.”_

“Valen?” Her voice was muffled against his neck. “What in hells happened?”

He released her quickly, embarrassed. Elowayen continued to stare at him in confusion until he cupped her face in his hand. “You... you _died.”_

“Oh.” The druid blinked as she remembered the beholder's ray, and then the cold and the dizziness and the Reaper-

“It is good to see that their faith in you was well-founded, my friend.” Nathyrra's voice rang out from atop a boulder, where the assassin perched with Assanti clasped lightly over her knees. “I admit, I was skeptical at first, but now I see that the bard and Valen were right in their faith.”

“Where are we?” Elowayen tried to stand, only to wobble slightly and almost fall over into the mud again. Valen was immediately there to steady her, a firm hand on her elbow and a concerned look in his eyes. “ _Oh._ Valen, you're covered in goo!”

The tiefling blinked, completely bewildered by her statement as Nathyrra and Deekin burst into snickers. “What?”

“You're covered in goo. Beholder goo.” Elowayen wiped futilely at a smear on his face, so focused on her task that she completely missed his blush. She steadied herself with a hand on his shoulder, careful to avoid the spikes in his armor. “Are you injured? We'll need to clean your wounds before we do any healing-”

“My lady, I am fine.” Valen captured her hand in his, a soft smile on his lips. “However, if we are to find that stone slab the kobold slave mentioned, we will need to do so now. I imagine it would have been more use against the beholders than it will be against the Valsharess, but any aid at all would not be remiss.”

“Valen is right, Elowayen.” Nathyrra offered Assanti with a grin. “You'll need all your weapons if we are to do this.”

Elowayen took her bow with a nod of thanks, a smile on her face. She wrinkled her nose in disgust when she turned to face the pile of beholder corpses blocking the exit. “Oh, _lovely_.” she complained, frowning. “Deekin, could you-”

“Deekin gots this, Boss.” the kobold moved to the front of the group. “No worries, exit be ready soon enough!”

“I hate this part.” Elowayen muttered petulantly.

“Boss hates a lot of things.” Deekin snickered over his shoulder as he drew himself up. A small gout of flame escaped from his snout and the kobold looked back over his shoulder. “Yous best be moving aways now, Deekin thinks.”

Elowayen yelped and moved away from the kobold as quickly as she could. Bemused, Nathyrra and Valen followed her behind a boulder near one of the air vents. Elowayen reached into her pack and removed scraps of cloth, similar to what Valen used to clean the blood from her throat earlier.

“You might want to cover your noses,” Elowayen warned as she offered the scraps. “Things are about to get even worse.”

“You just _died_ , Elowayen. How could this get any worse?”

“Ever smell burning beholder flesh, Nathyrra?”


End file.
